The days after Li Yuan's late-night visit were quieter, but not calmer.
The palace resumed its usual rhythm—ministers delivering reports, officials maneuvering in court, servants hurrying through corridors—but for Rui and Li Yuan, each moment felt stretched tight like a bowstring, ready to snap.
Rui remained distant. Cordial, composed, but never warm. Every smile was a shield, every gesture carefully measured. If Li Yuan hadn't known better, he might have believed Rui truly felt nothing. But he had seen something that night—just a flicker, a brief softening in Rui's silver eyes before the mask returned.
It was enough to haunt him.
Unseen Currents
Li Yuan stood alone on the imperial terrace, his gaze sweeping across the vast horizon. From here, he could see the city stretching far beyond the palace walls, each lantern a flicker of life. Once, this view had filled him with pride. Now, it felt... empty.
He had everything—an empire bowed at his feet, the loyalty of generals, and a palace carved from stone and gold. And yet, one person's coldness unsettled him more than the threat of rebellion ever could.
"Your Majesty," said Minister Zhao, bowing deeply as he approached.
Li Yuan turned, his expression unreadable. "Speak."
"The Southern provinces have grown restless. There are rumors... they believe Prince Rui may be held here against his will."
Li Yuan's brows furrowed. "They dare question the will of the emperor?"
Zhao hesitated. "It's not defiance, sire. It's uncertainty. Rui is beloved. If he is seen as a prisoner rather than a consort—"
"They will rebel," Li Yuan finished darkly.
Zhao nodded once.
The emperor turned back to the city. He had taken Rui as part of his conquest, yes—but somewhere along the way, Rui had become more than a symbol. More than leverage. And now, the very alliance Rui represented was at risk of falling apart.
"Leave me," he said. "I'll handle it."
As Zhao bowed and departed, Li Yuan's fists clenched at his sides. He had claimed Rui for power—but now, power alone couldn't keep him.
In the Garden of Echoes
Rui sat alone in the inner palace garden, surrounded by the soft murmur of wind-blown leaves and the scent of night-blooming flowers. The moon cast silver shadows on the stone path, and the gentle glow softened the harsh edges of the world.
He closed his eyes, breathing in the silence.
He could still feel Li Yuan's hand on his face, still hear the question that had lingered in the emperor's voice: "What if it is real?"
Rui didn't have an answer.
His heart warred with itself. Logic screamed that Li Yuan was a conqueror, a man of ambition and force, not someone who could love without control. But the emperor's gaze—haunted, searching, had felt so raw.
And it terrified Rui.
Because part of him, against every instinct, wanted it to be real.
He heard footsteps before the figure appeared, tall and cloaked in royal black and gold.
Li Yuan again.
Rui didn't move as the emperor approached and silently sat beside him on the stone bench. For a long time, neither spoke. The garden hummed with crickets and wind, a lull between storms.
"I heard about the unrest," Rui finally said.
Li Yuan didn't look at him. "It's being handled."
"You should have let me speak to them," Rui murmured. "They're my people."
"You're mine now," Li Yuan said, more sharply than intended.
Rui's jaw tensed. "Am I? Or am I just a trophy?"
That struck hard. Li Yuan looked at him then, eyes shadowed. "I don't know what you are to me, Rui. But I know you are not just a trophy."
"Then what am I?" Rui asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "Tell me."
Li Yuan faltered.
In war, decisions were swift, brutal, and clear. In matters of the heart, every word felt like walking a blade's edge.
"You're the one person I cannot control," he said finally. "And I hate it. But I also… need it."
Rui blinked. "Need me to defy you?"
"I need you to be you," Li Yuan admitted, voice low. "Even when it infuriates me. Even when you turn away."
Silence followed. Rui turned his gaze toward the moonlit pond.
"I don't know if I can give you what you want," he said quietly. "But I don't want to hate you either."
Li Yuan's chest tightened at the words. It wasn't an opening—not yet—but it wasn't another wall.
Shared Threads
Later that night, Rui returned to his chambers and found something unexpected waiting on his desk—a wrapped scroll sealed with the imperial crest.
He hesitated before unrolling it.
Inside was a painting, carefully inked in elegant strokes. It depicted two koi swimming beneath a lotus flower—one silver, the other black and gold. They circled each other, not touching, yet forever intertwined.
Beneath the image were only four characters: 并游不同水 — Swimming together, but in different waters.
Rui stared at the scroll for a long time, heart thrumming softly in his chest.
He understood what it meant.
And perhaps, so did Li Yuan.
Closing Moments
In his own chambers, Li Yuan lay sleepless, staring at the ceiling. He had made mistakes, he saw that now. Rui was not a thing to be claimed. He was not a symbol of peace or a tool of diplomacy.
He was a person—flawed, brilliant, hurting—and Li Yuan had stormed into his life without understanding the wounds he carried.
But he would learn. If Rui gave him the chance, he would learn.
Even a conqueror could change.