ITVCFITB CHAPTER 54

 Chapter 54 — His Highness Eats Vegetarian

The Heavenly Sage Emperor shot Li Mingjin a glare. “Nonsense! You think the north is some place for a holiday? Use your head.”

“But I can’t rest easy leaving him here alone,” Li Mingjin said.

The Emperor dropped a stone on the board. “What’s there to worry about? I’m still here, aren’t I? Who dares ‘eat’ your consort? He’s your principal spouse. And he’s hardly the sort to swallow grievances, he’s clever.”

“No matter how clever he is, I still want to take him with me,” Li insisted.

“No,” the Emperor said, firm. “It’s bitter cold up there. If anything happens en route, will your heart not ache?”

“With me there, nothing will happen to him,” Li said. I’d sooner shield him with my own body.

“I said no. You’re not even on the front lines, and still you want to drag him along? Absolutely not. Not up for discussion.”

Li Mingjin shut his mouth before he said something he’d regret. For a wild beat he considered just… sneaking Luo Shuyu out of the city.

As if reading his mind, the Emperor added, “Don’t you dare pull any ‘secretly elope with your spouse’ stunt. You’re a prince of the realm. Not a joke.”

Left with no leverage, Li sat and finished the game in silence. The Emperor, too, felt a twinge of helplessness. He had his reasons: the northern climate, yes, but also optics, a young prince carting his consort to a military handover would earn nothing but censure.

After supper, with no result to show for it, Li Mingjin left the palace dejected.

On the way back, Shadow Three asked, “Your Highness… truly no other way?”

“Got any ideas, then?” Mingjin snapped, temper frayed.

Shadow Three immediately bowed his head. “This fool has none. Unless… we do sneak the consort north?”

Clearly His Highness had steeled himself to petition the Emperor and been refused. What else was there but a clean grab-and-go?

Li swung into the saddle. “We’ll go home first. I’ll think of something.”

---

Luo Shuyu had no idea Li Mingjin had tried to petition the Emperor to take him north.

The sky was a solid sheet of grey, snow threatening. He waited at home; the hours stretched. No sign of Mingjin. Where had he run off to, all mysterious?

For once there were no banquets, no palace meals. Luo told the kitchens to keep supper light.

After days of meat-heavy feasts, Mingjin’s stomach needed a reset.

He had just finished instructing the staff when one of Mingjin’s attendants returned: the Emperor had kept His Highness for dinner; he’d be late.

So that was where he’d gone.

What business did he have in the palace without telling Shuyu? Had the Emperor summoned him in secret? About what?

Shuyu ate alone, then sat up in a fur-lined robe, waiting.

Dusk thickened; lanterns bloomed through the residence.

Then the snow began.

He sent someone to the palace gates with Mingjin’s winter cloak. Unless Shuyu saw him with his own eyes, worry gnawed.

Old shadows weighed heavy. In their last life, he had lost Li Mingjin, so fear crept in.

At least this was the palace; the Emperor’s attitude toward the Third Prince had thawed lately. Yes, that put Mingjin in the spotlight, but soon he’d be gone to the north; the only “scorecard” rivals could attack would be his performance there.

And beyond Shuyu himself, Mingjin had left no personal handles to grab.

Which meant while Mingjin was gone, Shuyu could not become a liability and could not add one more worry to weigh his mind down.

But Mingjin hadn’t even left yet, and here Shuyu was, worrying himself sick. One or two years, could he bear it? Would he crack and run north on his own?

He’d come back in this life for a simple wish: to live quietly with the person he loved, without intrigue. 

Why was it so hard?

He didn’t want Mingjin to leave. He didn’t want half-months with no letters, long stretches with no news.

He wanted Mingjin whole. He wanted his smiles and frowns, his temper and his laughter, wanted him beside him every night.

Shuyu toyed with the game stones at the low table; the more he thought, the tighter his chest drew. In a small fit he swept the stones back into the jar.

Why wasn’t there a way to have both?

No, he couldn’t just sit and wait. Tomorrow he would go to the palace and beg the Emperor himself. Wherever Li Mingjin went, he would go.

He’d been given another chance at life; why should they be separated? That was never his wish.

With the decision made, Shuyu began rehearsing how to persuade the Emperor, how to win permission to go north and stand with Mingjin.

Footsteps outside—Mingjin was back. Shuyu slid off the kang, shoved on shoes any which way, and ran out.

Mingjin had barely stepped in when Shuyu barreled into his arms. Seeing his reddened eyes, Mingjin’s heart pinched. “Who bullied you?”

Shuyu shook his head. “No one. I was reading a story… the lovers were separated by fate. I got sentimental.”

Mingjin eased him back a pace. “I’m cold. Don’t catch a chill clinging to me.”

Shuyu ignored that and leaned in again.

Clingy tonight? Mingjin found it strange and delightful. “I’m not running. Later you can hug me as long as you like.”

There he went again. Shuyu let go, resigned, and told him to have hot water prepared for a bath.

Cold night so they turned in early.

Mingjin was a furnace by nature. Shuyu burrowed in.

Pillow talk, round… who knew.

“Why did you go to the palace?” Shuyu asked. “Did Father Emperor need something?”

The question soured Mingjin’s mood. He couldn’t tell Shuyu he’d been refused; it would only make hope curdle into disappointment. Better to speak when there was success.

“Nothing much,” Li said. “He asked when we’ll close the net on Princess Jiayang’s lot.”

“Really?” Luo arched a brow. Discussing a nearly wrapped case during New Year’s? Unlikely. Mingjin must have his reasons or he was plotting something behind Shuyu’s back. What did you talk about?

“Really,” Li said, solemn.

Shuyu let it go. He had his own plan. “I’ll be going to the palace tomorrow, to chat with Mother Consort. New Year’s alone must be dull.”

“Good. Send my regards. I’ll meet you at the gates after lunch.”

To keep up appearances of a distant mother–son relationship, Mingjin wouldn’t accompany him inside.

“No need to come early,” Shuyu said. “It’s too cold to stand around; you’ll catch a chill.”

Mingjin’s hands were already misbehaving. “I’m sturdy, not some fragile flower. Want to come test for yourself?”

“…No.” Different beds, perhaps?

Mingjin yanked the quilt higher, cocooned them both, and rolled. “Too late to refuse.”

The kiss stole the rest of the words.

---

By morning Shuyu’s waist ached. Mingjin, just risen, saw him rubbing and pulled him close to knead gently.

“Is that enough pressure?”

“Here,” Shuyu said, guiding his hand to the sorest spot. “A little harder. Did I pull something? It feels sore and tight.”

“I’ll work it out for you.”

“Tonight,” Shuyu said from the nest of blankets, “no matter what, you behave, otherwise it’s three nights on the small couch.”

“…” It was only one new pose. His spouse was so strict. “If it still hurts this afternoon, I’ll fetch a physician.”

“It’s fine. Probably just a strain. Two days and it’ll pass.”

“That’s because you lack exercise. Train with me for a few days? No need to go out, we can do it indoors.”

“No.” Indoors, huh? Who knew which “poses” he meant.

Mingjin chuckled. “No, really, just a few forms. Not the kind we do at night. Who’s impure now?”

“Who are you calling impure?” Luo nudged him with his elbow. If you didn’t keep trying this and that, my mind would be wholesome.

“My fault, my fault. If you don’t want to, we won’t.”

“We will,” Shuyu said. I have to be fit enough to head north and not drag you down. “If I weren’t past the best age to start, I’d take up the blade.”

“Don’t scare me,” Mingjin said. “We have guards. You just stay healthy.”

“No,” Shuyu said, stubborn rising. “I want to train.”

“You don’t need to.”

“I do.”

“You really don’t. I’ll protect you.”

“You won’t be by my side every hour. To keep you from worrying, I need to learn.”

There it was the anxiety the northern expedition had seeded.

“I’ll… think of a plan,” Mingjin said.

They tabled the debate. After breakfast, Shuyu went to the palace.

Not to see Consort Mei first, but to request an audience with the Emperor.

He was in his own hall, toasting his hands over a brazier; easy enough to gain entry.

“Sit,” the Emperor said. “What brings you alone today? Where’s Mingjin?”

Shuyu bowed properly. “Your Majesty, I came alone… because I didn’t want His Highness to know.”

“Oh?” The boy had been here yesterday; now the spouse came today? “You need something?”

Instead of sitting, Shuyu knelt. “Your Majesty, I beg a favor.”

The Emperor hurried up to lift him. “What merits such ceremony? If you catch cold, that boy will flay me alive. Sit.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.”

“Tea.” He waved a eunuch over. “This is a fine new batch, take some home later. That boy loves this flavor.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“So,” the Emperor said, “this early visit, what for?” He half-suspected it was about the Luo family. In his experience, when the Crown Princess or the Eldest Prince’s consort sought private audiences, it was usually a natal-family plea.

Shuyu pressed his lips together. His eyes were red-rimmed; the hurt was genuine, but a steady resolve lay beneath. “To be frank, Your Majesty, I lost my mother young. When I married, I feared my own temperament would keep me from ever becoming close with His Highness, that our days would be flat and distant. But after living together, I learned he is not as people say. With time… I came to love him. I want to build our small life together.”

He drew a breath. “I know His Highness must go north. It’s your command; he must obey. I told myself I’d wait obediently at home for his triumphant return. But the closer the day comes, the more my heart hurts. I don’t know if he’ll be warm, if he’ll have enough to eat, if he’ll be well. I think and think, and the ache won’t leave.”

He folded his hands and bowed from his seat. “So I gathered my courage to beg Your Majesty for grace: please permit me to accompany His Highness north.”

Yesterday, Li Mingjin had asked bluntly and been refused out of hand. Today, Luo Shuyu’s plea was all bare sincerity and clear feeling. Where Mingjin’s was a headlong charge, Shuyu’s was persuasion that tugged at the chest. The Emperor found himself… moved.

Yesterday he had been immovable. Today he almost wavered.

He made a face. “So you two coordinated this, one after the other?”

Shuyu blinked. “His Highness came yesterday to…?”

“Yes,” the Emperor said dryly. “The loving couple tag-teaming to make trouble for me. You want to chase hardship into the cold? When you’ve silk quilts and warm fires in the capital? Everything you need at hand?”

“I am worried for him,” Shuyu said softly. “If I’m with him, what’s a little hardship? Your Majesty, when our Taizu campaigned, his wife rode beside him. I want to stand close and be his rear guard, handle the trifles so he doesn’t have to.”

“Taizu, huh?” The Emperor huffed a laugh. “That does ring a bell. You truly aren’t afraid of suffering?”

“I won’t lie: compared to the soldiers, I’ve never known real hardship. But I’m not afraid to try.”

The Emperor smiled despite himself. “Let me think on it. I truly don’t understand you young ones, everyone else runs toward comfort; you two sprint toward the hard road.”

Shuyu had achieved what he came for. He bowed. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

So Mingjin had tried yesterday and been refused. No wonder he’d kept quiet.

Before he left the palace, Shuyu did stop in on Consort Mei and told her his plan.

“You want to go too?” she asked.

“Yes, Mother,” Luo said. “I’ve never left the capital. Neither has he. I’d rather take care of him up close than wait in the city and count letters.”

She studied him, then nodded decisively. “Go. I’ll speak to His Majesty for you.”

Luo was genuinely surprised by how readily she agreed. He broke into a grin. “Thank you, Mother.”

Outside the gates, Li Mingjin was waiting.

Shuyu, buoyant, caught his hand. “Your Highness.” He leaned closer then stopped, nose wrinkling. “What is that smell on you?”

Mingjin stepped back and sniffed his own sleeve. “There’s a smell?”

“It’s awful,” Luo said, pinching his nose. “What did you do?”

Mingjin glanced left and right. “…Ate something.”

“Street food again?” Luo’s eyes slid to Shadow Three, dressed as a common guard. “If he won’t say it, you will.”

Shadow Three didn’t hesitate. “His Highness ate thirty squares of stinky tofu!”

Salary saved, he thought.

Shuyu speared them both with a look. “His Highness is eating vegetarian tonight. Shadow Three, half a month’s pay, gone.”

“…” Li Mingjin stared at the traitor.

---

Author’s Note:
Third Prince: Sweetheart, isn’t it… delicious?
Luo Shuyu: …

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Little notes(s):
Taizu: Founding Emperor