When the government office closed for the day, Wei Ming returned to the Prince's Manor. The moment he stepped through the gate, he saw Chi Lian already waiting for him in the courtyard. Behind him, Gui Heng, Chestnut Tiger, and the Ran Dragon were lined up in a row, all squatting under the grape trellis to cool off and play.

Four pairs of clear, innocent eyes stared at him in unison. Wei Ming took a step back and remarked with heartfelt emotion, “The number of freeloaders in the house is really growing.”

Chi Lian had received news at the Zixiao Academy that Prince Duan had offended the Emperor in the palace, provoking Emperor Qiansheng’s thunderous rage. Fearing something had happened to Wei Ming, he had rushed over to see him. He first looked him over from head to toe, and seeing no injuries, he then frowned and asked, “His Highness was reprimanded by the Emperor in the palace today? What was it about?”

Wei Ming had previously held Yi Dayou back, deliberately keeping the news from Chi Lian, all for this very moment. He cast a teasing, smiling glance at Chi Lian and said leisurely, “You’re so well-informed. Why didn’t you also ask why the Emperor was angry?”

Chi Lian guessed, “Was there a blunder in your official duties, or did someone slander you before the Emperor?”

Wei Ming: “...”

“I’m truly curious sometimes. In the Grand Preceptor’s heart, am I a delicate little white flower that can’t withstand the wind?” He pulled Chi Lian to sit at the small stone table in the courtyard. Their knees touched, creating a sense of intimacy so close that not even water could be splashed between them. “Why couldn’t it be that I started the trouble?”

Seeing his relaxed attitude, as if it were nothing serious, Chi Lian thought to himself, 'The Emperor is, after all, the Emperor. His nature is still reliable. Perhaps it really isn’t a big deal.' He had just breathed a small sigh of relief when he heard Wei Ming say, “Actually, the Emperor summoned me today to bestow a marriage upon me.”

Gui Heng was drinking water and, upon hearing this, went: “Pfft—cough, cough, cough, cough!”

But Chi Lian’s reaction was exceptionally calm. There was no extraordinary shock, no joyful congratulations, and certainly none of the overwhelming jealousy Wei Ming had been hoping for. The only abnormality was that his silence lasted just a tiny bit longer than usual.

It was as if he had long anticipated this day. As naturally as if he had rehearsed it countless times, he asked, “Which family’s young lady is it?”

Wei Ming had only meant to test the waters, but he was saddened to find he couldn’t bear this composure at all. The thoughts in his heart grew countless little claws, nearly scratching the corners of the walls to shreds. “Censor-in-chief Qin Shen. What do you think of his family’s standing?”

Chi Lian hesitated for a moment, looking like he didn’t really want to answer, but he had to speak. “I am not thoroughly familiar with the court officials, but the Censor-in-chief is a man of integrity among the civil officials. For the Emperor to make such an arrangement, it seems he holds high expectations for Your Highness.”

“Is that so,” Wei Ming sighed languidly. “What a pity.”

Chi Lian looked up in confusion.

“It’s no use, no matter how good it is,” Wei Ming said, propping his chin on his hand with a grin. “Because I’ve already refused, so the Emperor is very, very displeased.”

He finally got his wish and saw a corner of the truth beneath the Grand Preceptor’s calm mask.

Chi Lian’s expression in that instant was particularly intriguing. First came shock and confusion, then a fleeting flash of brilliance, which he quickly suppressed with the utmost restraint. Yet, it had ultimately touched upon his hidden feelings, and a faint layer of melancholy surfaced between his brows.

“Why refuse?” he asked softly. “Didn’t His Highness promise me that you would do everything in your power to become the Emperor?”

Before his voice had even faded, darkness suddenly fell before his eyes. Wei Ming’s warm palm had covered the top of his head, ruffling his hair as one would a child’s, his voice just as light and airy. “Because I was afraid that if I agreed, the Grand Preceptor would never again be able to come see me whenever he pleased, like he does now.”

Being sensible was certainly a good thing, but being too sensible was heartbreaking.

Gui Heng accidentally met his gaze, which was gentler than the waters of spring, and in that instant, he grasped a heaven-shattering secret, sucking in a breath of cold air in terror.

Chi Lian was like a small cat that had been frightened into a fluff ball but was quickly soothed, tilting his head up to look at him from under his palm.

It seemed he didn’t take the words as a serious answer, thinking Wei Ming had said them in jest to comfort him, and was still saying, “But if Your Highness insists on defying the Emperor’s wishes and you incite his prejudice against you, the road ahead will be very difficult...”

Wei Ming lowered his hand and said patiently, “Let’s not even mention the simplest principle that marriage requires mutual consent and affection. Let’s not talk about whether a blind marriage can produce true feelings. Let’s just talk about being the Emperor. If I can’t even make my own decision about my marriage, if I bow my head and submit at the slightest threat or temptation, how can I be fit to rule the world one day?”

“The throne can be inherited, it can be seized, but it absolutely cannot be something he bestows upon me as charity, because you can’t beg your way to real power.”

Before Chi Lian could say anything, Gui Heng peeked out from behind the grape trellis and instigated, “I think His Highness is right. You should listen to him. He was an Emperor for tens of thousands of years; he definitely has more experience than you.”

Chi Lian said helplessly, “He has amnesia...”

“That’s the first point,” Wei Ming continued. “Secondly, some people get jealous and throw a fit with me over a mere cat. As the saying goes, a stepmother brings a stepfather. If I were to marry a Princess Consort, I’m afraid he would overturn the entire Prince’s Manor with a single sword stroke. So it’s best to maintain the status quo.”

Chi Lian said feebly, “I did not...”

Seeing Gui Heng and the others staring at them eagerly, Wei Ming got up and went over to pat each of their heads. He blew away the cat fur clinging to his hand with a “whoosh” and summarized, “All in all, the matter is settled and cannot be undone. Next, the Emperor might fly into a rage from the shame and cut my stipend, or punish me with house arrest. Our family is about to sit and eat away our fortune. Chi Lian, if it really comes to it, find your little brother a job at the Zixiao Academy.”

Chi Lian gave up completely. “...”

Gui Heng shot up, slapping the table. “Who’s his little brother? I was clearly initiated first, I’m the older brother!”

Wei Ming waved his hand dismissively. “You should lower yourself when you’re asking for a favor. Or, you could take Chestnut Tiger and the Ran Dragon to the streets to busk and support yourselves. As long as you can earn a meal, that’s all that matters.”

Gui Heng felt that he had no idea what an Immortal Lord was capable of. His dignity as a deity had been greatly challenged, and he left in a huff with Chestnut Tiger and the Ran Dragon.

Once the troublemakers had dispersed, Chi Lian once again asked Wei Ming seriously, “Your Highness, will this matter truly not hinder you?”

Wei Ming chuckled. “What, you really think of me as a pearl in your palm? Don’t worry, the Emperor won’t do anything to me. Right now, he doesn’t understand me well enough, so he’s trying all sorts of ways to test my limits. Blindly obeying will only make it seem like I want the throne too badly, which will make him even more wary of me.”

Compared to the half-joking, half-serious banter from before, this statement sounded more plausible. Chi Lian was convinced. Just as he nodded, Wei Ming added, “Don’t get too hung up on these mortal schemes. You are a deity. If you’re not satisfied, you can flip the table at any time. That is your greatest trump card. If you forget your own strengths and insist on playing by mortal rules, competing with them in schemes and cunning, even a deity will lose.”

Wei Ming’s words were a wake-up call for him. He said in a low voice, “Your Highness’s lesson is right.”

“Stop right there,” Wei Ming turned away, pressing a hand to his forehead. “Do me a favor and put away that official tone. What has this wretched Imperial Palace done to our otherworldly and refined Grand Preceptor? Just speak normally when you’re at home.”

Chi Lian noticed that when Wei Ming spoke, he would always use “Prince’s Manor” and “home” interchangeably. He didn’t know if it was intentional or not, but it was indeed a subtle and effective suggestion. In the mortal realm, he always felt adrift and unable to find solid ground. Sometimes in his dreams, he longed to return to the Jiangxiao Palace of the past. Recently, however, he rarely had such thoughts. Prince Duan's Manor stood firm, after all. He could do his best to shield the manor from the storms within the Imperial City, and when the storms came, he could also return safely under its eaves.

In the end, the string holding the kite was still the former Emperor Cangze, the current His Highness, Prince Duan. As long as he was there, Chi Lian would never have to worry about being displaced.

“Since Your Highness has a plan, I will not worry,” Chi Lian said. “Just as you said, the Emperor will not let this go easily. If there is any way I can be of use, Your Highness must speak up without any hesitation.”

Wei Ming said casually, “Then next time a marriage is bestowed, why don’t you be the one to accept?”

Chi Lian didn’t understand his meaning at first. “What?”

“I’m saying,” Wei Ming put away his relaxed expression and said slowly and solemnly, “if the Emperor insists on assigning me someone to marry next time, can I choose you, Grand Preceptor?”

By then, dusk was falling. The summer heat was gradually fading, and the night wind was cool and refreshing. The Trumpet Vine Flowers were past their bloom, leaving only verdant shade. The entire courtyard was shrouded in a pale violet twilight—a perfectly ordinary evening.

Beautiful and fleeting, like a mortal’s life.

Chi Lian was silent for a long time, and Wei Ming did not press him.

The silence proved that he had realized Wei Ming was not joking. And precisely because of that, he had to respond with equal gravity, not with some quip that could easily brush it aside.

After a long while, he lowered his gaze to Wei Ming’s hand resting on the stone table and gave a soft, somewhat sad smile.

“Unfortunately, if I were a woman, perhaps I could be of help to Your Highness.”

“Coincidentally,” Wei Ming said, “I never said I liked women.”

“Your Highness.”

The evening wind made his voice seem exceptionally distant and ethereal. For a fleeting moment, Wei Ming even felt as if he might ride that wind and fly away. “You are not only a Prince, you are also Emperor Cangze, the Taiwei Heavenly Emperor. Do not confine yourself to a mere hundred years in the mortal realm.”

“And do not... do something you will regret in the future.”

Wei Ming had been calm and composed all along. Even when he had impulsively confessed his feelings, following the flow of conversation, he had waited for Chi Lian’s answer without rush or agitation. It was only upon hearing this sentence that he finally realized he had made a wrong move.

He had oversimplified everything. Why was it that Chi Lian was willing to cast aside life and death for him, yet would never take another step forward? The unspoken story and the unresolved knot in his heart did not lie with Prince Duan of this life, but in the memories he never possessed, memories that belonged only to Emperor Cangze.

He suddenly asked, “Is it because you have ‘no improper thoughts about Emperor Cangze’? If I were just a mortal, would your answer still be the same?”

“Insisting on ‘if’ is meaningless. There is no need to harbor illusions about things that cannot be changed.” Chi Lian rose and walked away, his back to him, for the first time not bowing or bidding farewell. “For Your Highness, and for me, it is all the same.”

Wei Ming remained seated, his posture rigid. Only after his figure had completely vanished beyond the moon gate did his shoulders slump. He unclenched his hand, which had been clasped so tightly it had gone numb, and let out a small, dejected sigh.

It seems I still have to work hard to become the Emperor.

He tilted his head back, gazing at the completely darkened sky, and said in his heart, 'Only the Emperor can rightfully possess the Zixiao Academy. Whether it's supreme imperial power or the person I love, if I just wait for heaven’s pity or others’ charity, it seems I will get nothing at all.'

The author has something to say:

Wei Ming: I might as well be a substitute (cries)