All I ask is to die alongside you.

Steam drifted as hot water slowly poured from the white jade spouts on all sides, filling the air with a gentle, murmuring sound. Beigong Juechen sat in the bath with his eyes closed, his snow-white skin tinged with a faint blush. Beigong Qiyi lay atop him, their bodies still intimately joined. He toyed with the sensitive rose-tinted bud on the man's chest, his voice soft and coaxing, "Big Brother, let's do it again."

Beigong Juechen opened his eyes, fixing him with a cold gaze. Beigong Qiyi pouted, understanding the unspoken meaning, and slowly withdrew from the man, his own body spent. Beigong Juechen pushed the youth aside, took a white silk scarf floating on the water, and draped it over his face. Stretching out his limbs, he let out a slow breath of relief.

Beigong Qiyi stole a glance at him, swallowing nervously. Edging closer, he let his submerged fingers entwine with the man's hand. Beigong Juechen shifted but did not pull away. The youth's smile deepened, emboldened, and he clasped their hands tightly together, fingers interlacing.

Leaning over, he pressed a gentle kiss to the man's brow and murmured with a laugh, "To hold your hand and grow old together." Beneath the white silk, Juechen's dark green eyes opened slowly. His lips moved as if mouthing something, then he closed his eyes again, indifferent as ever.

Seeing that the man ignored him, Qiyi was not discouraged. Turning toward the doors, he called out, "Attend me." Moments later, a line of maids in sheer, gossamer garments entered, each bearing a tray of fruit. At Qiyi's gesture, they set down the dishes, and he promptly dismissed the bevy of beauties.

With slender, gleaming fingers, Qiyi plucked a deep purple grape. Lifting the white silk from Juechen’s face, he offered it to his lips, "Big Brother, try this grape." Juechen parted his lips just enough to accept the crystal-clear fruit.

The man's tongue, warm and damp, brushed Qiyi's fingers, making him shiver. Fixing his gaze on the other, he asked in a hoarse whisper, "Is it good?" Juechen pulled the scarf from his face and tossed it aside. He nodded minutely, "Not bad."

Qiyi's grin broadened. He picked up another grape and teased, "Grapes and fine wine in a luminous cup, the pipa urges the drinker on horseback. The wine brewed from these grapes is exquisite—I’ve already ordered a batch. It will be ready before long."

Juechen nodded indifferently, tossing a fragrant berry into his mouth. His voice was low, "Then I’ll await your wine." Noticing the man seemed to prefer the berries, Qiyi moved the dish closer and said with a smile, "Wine strengthens the body and extends life, Big Brother should drink more when the time comes."

Juechen frowned faintly and tapped Qiyi's forehead with a bent finger, not too hard, not too soft. "Are you saying I’m old?"

Qiyi shook his head quickly, tracing the man's brows and features with adoration. "Big Brother is unmatched in charm; how could you ever grow old? I only hope you live a long, long life."

Juechen looked at him, half amused, half skeptical. Qiyi drew near, brushing his lips against the man's, lowering his voice, "We are eight years apart. I missed those eight years of yours, but I want to spend the rest of my days by your side. I do not ask to be born together, but I wish to die together."

Hardly had the words left his lips when the man kissed him deeply. Qiyi was briefly startled, then threw his arms around Juechen’s neck, responding with fervor. In his passion, he missed the fleeting, unreadable emotion that flashed in Juechen’s dark green eyes.

"You said you weren’t tempting me..." Qiyi grumbled, dissatisfied, his hand already slipping lower, exploring Juechen’s body anew. The man’s brow furrowed, a trace of helplessness in his expression.

Two fingers played at the man’s entrance as Qiyi’s gaze fell on the tray of fruit at the edge of the bath. His eyes lit up, and he dangled three grapes before Juechen, grinning mischievously, "We mustn’t let these go to waste. Perhaps Big Brother's lower lips could taste them?"

Juechen, eyes half-shut, caught Qiyi’s hand in a firm grip, his voice deep, "I think your lower mouth might be far more suitable." Qiyi shuddered, hastily dropping the grapes back onto the tray. He forced a sheepish smile, "I was only joking, Big Brother. No need to take it seriously." Juechen snorted and, releasing his hand, stepped out of the bath.

"Big Brother..." The youth’s voice, tinged with grievance, sounded behind him. Juechen paused, glancing back. Qiyi pointed pitifully at his own arousal, "Big Brother, if you just leave, what am I to do with this?" Slipping into a robe from the rack, Juechen narrowed his eyes, a faint smirk on his lips, "Find your own way," he replied, leaving the bath without a backward glance.

Only when Juechen’s figure vanished from view did Qiyi finally look away. He submerged his hands in the water, parting the floating petals. Gazing down at his half-exposed arousal, he gave a wry smile.

He had never realized how irresistible one person’s allure could be.

Leaning back where the man had just sat, Qiyi arched his graceful neck, his long, phoenix eyes half-closed. Grasping himself, he imagined the heat and softness of the man’s body, unable to hold back a low moan.

Warm spring, a bath at Huaqing Pool, hot springs smooth as silk upon creamy skin. The handmaid lifts her up, delicate and weak, just after receiving the emperor's favor. Cloud-like hair, flower-bright features, golden hairpins swaying; the lotus-draped bed warm through the night. The bitter shortness of pleasure—rising late, the king no longer attends morning court.

Hot white release splattered onto his hand. Qiyi leaned by the edge, gasping for breath. Only after a good while did he finally rise from the water.

※※※

The air in the flower garden was heavy with fragrance, the scent of tea wafting on the breeze.

Qi Yong absentmindedly traced the rim of his teacup, his voice rough, "What do you intend to do?" Xi Mo sat with arms crossed, a faint smile on his lips. "I just agreed to help someone with a little favor."

"What favor?" Qi Yong asked, eyes lowered. Xi Mo stood, turning his back to survey the riot of blossoms. He replied lightly, "I promised someone I’d take Beigong Juechen away from Beigong Qiyi." Turning, his gaze sharpened, "And you, as it happens, want him too. Isn’t this a win-win-win?"

Qi Yong finished his tea unhurriedly, then said, "Whatever you plan, I'm ready to play along." Xi Mo regarded him, lips curling into a slow smile. "All I need is for you to act at the crucial moment. If Qiang Yanxi rescues him first, you’ll lose your best opportunity."

Setting down the cup, Qi Yong walked to the garden, stooping to pick a pink calla lily. "Do you think I would let that happen?" Turning, he looked at Xi Mo, half-smiling. Xi Mo held his gaze, raising a brow. "You would not."

Because you’re so eager to have him, you wouldn’t miss even the slimmest chance.

Lifting the calla lily to his nose, Qi Yong smiled, "The calla comes in three colors: white, red, pink. Each with its own meaning." Xi Mo replied, "White means pure love, red means devotion, hearts tied as one, good fortune. And pink..." He paused. Qi Yong stroked the petals, his voice low, "Pink means to love you for a lifetime..."

Xi Mo snorted, brushing the flower from Qi Yong’s hand. "I didn’t realize you’d grown so self-pitying." Qi Yong frowned, then managed a wistful smile, "I’ll await your news."

Xi Mo nodded, then suddenly said, "By the way, where’s that stand-in? I have a word for him." Qi Yong laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. "Just a nobody, why fuss over him?"

"Even nobodies should know their place," Xi Mo scoffed, shaking his head. "Arrogant beauties like him, I can’t help but find them irksome." Qi Yong snorted, teasing, "You’re just annoyed by Beigong Qiyi and looking for someone to vent on."

Xi Mo narrowed his eyes, smirking. "I just remembered, there’s one thing I forgot to tell you." Qi Yong blinked in confusion. Xi Mo leaned in, lowering his voice, "Your Beigong Juechen has agreed to try accepting Beigong Qiyi." With that, he stepped back, satisfied to see Qi Yong’s expression darken.

Ling Sheng approached the garden, anxious. When his subordinate relayed the palace lord’s summons, he had happily gone to dress, but then realized Qi Yong never called for him by day, and only rarely at night. This sudden summons must be related to that man from earlier.

Is he going to punish me? Ling Sheng fretted as he walked toward the garden. From afar, he saw someone seated in the pavilion. Gritting his teeth, he knelt, "My lord, you summoned me."

Xi Mo sat on a stone stool, quietly blowing steam from his tea. After a long moment, he asked softly, "What is your name?" Ling Sheng started, looking up at Xi Mo, then around in confusion. He frowned, "Why are you here? Where is the lord?" Xi Mo sipped his tea, unhurried, "Stop looking. It was I who sent for you."

"You—" Ling Sheng, realizing Qi Yong was absent, stood abruptly, suspicion in his voice. "What do you want with me?" Xi Mo glanced at him with indifference, "Who told you to stand?"

"You!" Ling Sheng bit his lip, anger flaring. "Who do you think you are? Why should I kneel to you?" Xi Mo set his cup down heavily on the stone table, hands resting on his knees, lips curled in a faint smile. "By rights, I am Qi Yong’s cousin, and Deputy Lord of the Hundred Fiends Palace. Tell me, should you kneel?"

Ling Sheng paused, stunned. Xi Mo’s eyes narrowed, his voice cold, "Kneel!" Ling Sheng’s legs buckled, and he fell to the ground with a thud.

Satisfied, Xi Mo poured himself more tea, speaking leisurely, "Here’s the rule: you may rise only when I finish this pot. Understood?"

Ling Sheng glared, biting his lip in frustration, but could only nod in reluctant assent.

Author’s note: Xi Mo is quite the devil this chapter, isn’t he?