— From a Single Plum to a Shared Future
This is a serialized collection of mini-theater scenes, set in the late summer of Jinghe Year Two. It captures the tender daily moments and quiet affirmations of love between the emperor and his consort—moments untouched by court affairs, yet filled with warmth and devotion.
Mini-Theater ①: Memorials and Candied Plums
One afternoon in the second year of Jinghe, warm sunlight filtered through the carved window lattice, scattering flecks of light across the polished golden tiles of the imperial study.
Gu Lian, for the umpteenth time, set down his vermilion brush, his gaze drifting toward the figure reclining on the cushioned couch by the window.
Ai Miao lay sideways, a thick volume of Revised Proposals on Canal Transport spread across his knees, utterly absorbed. His slender fingers occasionally tapped the page, brows faintly furrowed as he immersed himself in the complex maps and data of river routes. Sunlight traced the contours of his refined profile and trembling lashes—so picturesque it could've been a painting… if only he would glance at the emperor sitting nearby.
Gu Lian cleared his throat.
No response. Ai Miao turned a page.
Gu Lian coughed—loudly.
Ai Miao merely adjusted his posture, angling the sunlight more fully onto the page.
A flare of irritation surged in Gu Lian's chest. He slammed his brush onto the desk with a crisp snap.
Ai Miao finally looked up, blinking as if pulled from deep thought. "Your Majesty? Is something amiss?" His gaze swept over the mountain of memorials before Gu Lian and instinctively asked, "Is there an issue with the southern relief plan, or does the Ministry of War's equipment list need revision?"
Gu Lian stared at him—completely unaware of his offense—and grew even more exasperated. He huffed and turned away, voice stiff: "I'm thirsty."
Ai Miao immediately set down his book and rose to pour tea. His movements were smooth as he placed the warm cup beside Gu Lian, tone still calm: "Please, Your Majesty."
Gu Lian accepted the cup but didn't drink. He idly stirred the floating tea leaves with the lid, continuing to radiate cold displeasure.
Ai Miao stood nearby, watching the tight line of his jaw and pursed lips. At last, he began to sense something was wrong. The emperor… seemed upset? And at him?
He mentally reviewed the day's interactions. No missteps, no breaches of etiquette. Then why—?
Gu Lian waited a moment, then glanced sideways. Ai Miao was frowning slightly, clearly deep in thought—but still not coming over to coax him. The emperor's frustration boiled over. He slammed the teacup onto the desk and stood to leave.
"Your Majesty?" Ai Miao instinctively reached out, gently tugging his sleeve.
Gu Lian paused, trying to shake him off—but didn't truly pull away.
Ai Miao saw that, despite the stiff posture, he hadn't walked away. A flicker of insight lit his eyes. He released the sleeve and instead pulled a small oil-paper packet from his robe.
"Your Majesty," he stepped in front of Gu Lian and unwrapped the packet. Inside were several translucent candied plums, glistening and fragrant. "I passed by that old shop outside the palace today. I remembered… you seem to like these."
Gu Lian's gaze flicked to the plums. His throat bobbed slightly—but he kept his face stern. "I'm busy with state affairs. I've no time for snacks."
Ai Miao picked up a plum and held it to his lips, voice soft and coaxing: "Your Majesty works hard. You should rest when you can. Just one? I tried them—they're perfectly sweet and tart."
The scent was close, his fingers nearly brushing Gu Lian's lips. Gu Lian looked into his expectant eyes, and the last of his sulk melted away. He opened his mouth, took the plum—and gently bit Ai Miao's fingertip before he could withdraw.
Ai Miao flinched, quickly pulling back, ears tinged red.
The sweet-sour flavor bloomed in Gu Lian's mouth, warming him from within. He chewed slowly, then said with mock severity: "Next time you ignore me like that, one plum won't be enough to make amends."
Ai Miao bowed obediently: "I was wrong." He looked up, eyes glinting with a quiet smile. "It's just… this canal reform affects millions of grain shipments next year. I didn't dare slack off. Perhaps… Your Majesty would care to review it with me? Your insight would be invaluable."
Gu Lian saw through the excuse—clearly a ploy to keep him close—but found it pleasing nonetheless. He nodded with regal restraint: "Very well. I'll lend you my eyes."
He returned to his seat, pulling Ai Miao down beside him. Together, they pored over the same memorial, discussing its contents. Sunlight overlapped their shadows on the floor. The imperial study was filled only with quiet murmurs and the occasional, good-natured rebuttal.
The remaining candied plums? Gu Lian discreetly tucked them into his sleeve.
Mini-Theater ②: Ink Stains and Compensation
Since the "candied plum incident," Ai Miao had indeed become more attentive. Whenever he accompanied Gu Lian in the imperial study, he would always spare a portion of his focus for the emperor.
But today's urgent report from Jiangnan was particularly thorny. It involved several key checkpoints in the implementation of the new salt permit policy. Ai Miao had been analyzing it for half an hour, so absorbed that he didn't even notice when Gu Lian set down his vermilion brush and walked up behind him.
Not until a warm breath brushed past his ear.
"So it seems this imperial study of mine still can't compare to a few pages of scrap paper in your hands?"
Ai Miao snapped back to awareness. He looked up—and met Gu Lian's deep, unreadable gaze. Instinctively, he tried to rise and apologize, but Gu Lian pressed a hand to his shoulder.
"Your Majesty…" he had just begun, when he felt a sudden chill at his neck.
Gu Lian had picked up the very brush he'd been using to mark memorials, dipped it in cinnabar, and drawn a vertical stroke—neither light nor heavy—on the inside collar of Ai Miao's pristine inner robe.
A bright red line stood out starkly against the white fabric.
"Your Majesty!" Ai Miao was genuinely startled now, his dark eyes widening. He had always been fastidious, his robes immaculate. When had he ever endured such… mischief?
But Gu Lian looked quite pleased with his "masterpiece." He set the brush down, tapped the red mark with a finger, and said lazily, "Interest. For every moment you ignore me, I'll tally one stroke. Now then—how does Ai Qing plan to repay this debt?"
His voice dropped, thick with unmistakable teasing and threat. His gaze burned, as if to say: answer wrong, and the next stroke might fall somewhere far less innocent.
Ai Miao looked at the handsome face so close to his own, felt the cool ink on his neck and the rising heat beneath his skin. He knew that if he didn't settle this "debt" today, he wouldn't be allowed to leave.
He lowered his gaze, lashes trembling slightly in thought.
After a moment, he looked up again. His eyes had regained some of their usual composure, but the flush at his ears betrayed him. He reached out, gently tugged the sleeve of Gu Lian's dragon robe, and spoke in a voice so soft it was almost a whisper—tinged with a rare, almost playful tone: "I… am slow-witted, and don't know how to repay it. Perhaps… Your Majesty would instruct me?"
It was nearly a direct invitation. Gu Lian's eyes darkened instantly. He turned his hand to clasp Ai Miao's, pulling him up from the chair with a low chuckle. "Very well. Then I'll collect it myself."
He led Ai Miao straight toward the warm chamber at the back of the study, reserved for the emperor's private rest. The curtains fell, shutting out all light and sound from the outer room.
"Your Majesty, the report…" Ai Miao murmured, even as he was pressed into the soft brocade bedding, still thinking of unfinished duties.
"Tomorrow." Gu Lian's breath was already uneven. His fingers deftly undid the fastenings of Ai Miao's robe, revealing the vivid red mark. He lowered his head and bit down beside it—not hard, but enough to leave a faint imprint. "For now, Ai Qing need only think about how to… appease my wrath."
Ai Miao couldn't suppress a soft gasp. His dark eyes shimmered with heat. At last, he gave up all resistance, wrapping his arms around Gu Lian's neck and burying his flushed face in his shoulder—a silent surrender to this sudden "compensation."
As for the ink-stained inner robe, and the palace attendants waiting outside the study with eyes lowered and ears shut—
They would all become part of this afternoon's secret, known only to the emperor and his consort.
Mini-Theater ③: Grapes and a Wager
On a late summer evening, the heat still lingered. Gu Lian had just finished reviewing the last memorial and tugged irritably at his collar.
He looked up to see Ai Miao seated on the bamboo couch by the window, bathed in the fading light, reading a border military report. Beside him sat a dish of chilled amethyst grapes—plump, translucent, and glistening.
Gu Lian stared at the grapes, then at Ai Miao, completely absorbed in his reading. He rose and walked over.
"So focused?" he asked, settling beside him and casually picking up a grape.
Ai Miao looked up at the sound, and upon seeing him, began to put the report away. "Your Majesty is finished? I…"
Before he could finish, Gu Lian had already peeled a grape and held it to his lips. Ai Miao instinctively opened his mouth to accept it. The cool, sweet juice burst across his tongue, easing some of the day's weariness.
"Sweet?" Gu Lian asked, his fingertips still glistening with juice.
Ai Miao nodded. "Very." He reached to peel one for Gu Lian in return.
But Gu Lian stopped his hand, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Eating like this is dull. Let's make a wager."
"A wager?"
"Let's see…" Gu Lian leaned in and plucked a grape stem from the dish. "Whoever can tie this stem into a knot using only their mouth wins. If you succeed, I'll grant you three days off from morning court—so you can focus on your canal reform plans."
Ai Miao raised a brow. "And if I lose?"
Gu Lian didn't answer. He simply traced a finger lightly along the clasp of Ai Miao's robe.
Ai Miao's ears flushed, but his competitive spirit was stirred. He took the soft, pliant stem, examined it, and began trying to manipulate it with lips and teeth. He was usually deft, but the stem refused to cooperate. After several failed attempts, his furrowed brows and gently moving lips were more captivating to Gu Lian than any scenery.
When it was Gu Lian's turn, he calmly placed the stem in his mouth. Moments later, he spat it out—a perfect little knot resting in his palm.
"Your Majesty…" Ai Miao was genuinely surprised. He hadn't known Gu Lian possessed such a skill.
Gu Lian chuckled, leaning close to his ear. "Learned it sneaking off with the young eunuchs back in the day." His warm breath brushed Ai Miao's ear. "Now, Ai Qing—time to honor your wager."
His fingers deftly unfastened the jade clasp of Ai Miao's robe, voice filled with smug delight. "Today's memorials were exhausting. I'll need you… to personally ease my troubles."
Ai Miao was pulled into the inner chamber, watching Gu Lian's triumphant expression. He sighed—resigned yet indulgent.
"I… obey."
As for the dish of grapes left unfinished—
In the deepening twilight, they quietly took on a sweeter flavor.
Mini-Theater ④: Grapes and a Wager · Aftermath
The inner chamber's curtains were pulled shut by Gu Lian with casual urgency, sealing off the last rays of twilight. Ai Miao was pressed into the soft brocade bedding, his robe already loosened, revealing the plain white inner garment beneath.
"Your Majesty…" Ai Miao's breath was slightly uneven, his dark eyes deep and shadowed in the dim light. "I concede."
Gu Lian chuckled lowly, his fingers deftly undoing the ties of Ai Miao's inner robe, exposing the elegant lines of his collarbone. The lips that had just been pursed in concentration while attempting the knot now hovered close, glistening faintly.
"Conceding isn't enough," Gu Lian murmured, his nose brushing against Ai Miao's neck, voice low and dangerous. "I intend to collect interest."
He leaned in and captured those lips, the taste of grapes still lingering between them. Ai Miao stiffened at first, then relaxed, arms wrapping around Gu Lian's neck. His response was hesitant but resolute.
This kiss was different from their usual tenderness—tinged with playful punishment, yet melting into something deeper with every breath.
When they finally parted, both were slightly breathless. Gu Lian pulled back just enough to see Ai Miao's flushed cheeks and dazed eyes in the faint moonlight. Whatever irritation he'd felt earlier had long since vanished, replaced by a deeper craving.
"Your Majesty…" Ai Miao's voice was husky from emotion. "I still haven't finished reading the military report…"
Gu Lian raised a brow and pinched his waist—not too hard, but enough to make Ai Miao shiver.
"Clearly I haven't worked hard enough, if you still have room in your mind for other matters."
He didn't speak further. Instead, he kissed those lips again, silencing any protest. His hands moved with practiced ease, removing the last of their clothing.
As skin met skin, both let out a soft, involuntary sigh of satisfaction.
"Focus," Gu Lian whispered against his ear, breath hot. "Tonight… you think only of me."
Ai Miao's rational protests were swallowed whole. He clung to the man above him, letting himself be swept away in this sweet punishment born of a single grape.
Time blurred. Eventually, the chamber quieted, leaving only the sound of soft breathing. Ai Miao lay spent in Gu Lian's arms, too tired to move even a finger.
Gu Lian lazily stroked his damp back, pressing a satisfied kiss to his hairline.
"Morning court…" Ai Miao mumbled, eyes closed.
"Cancelled," Gu Lian interrupted, pulling him closer. "I said three days off."
Ai Miao seemed about to protest, but instead nestled deeper into the embrace and drifted off to sleep.
Gu Lian gazed at his peaceful face, a smug smile tugging at his lips. He gently pulled the brocade blanket over them and kissed Ai Miao's forehead.
As for the forgotten dish of grapes?
That could wait until tomorrow.
Mini-Theater ⑤: Grapes and a Wager · Morning
The next morning, light crept softly into the room.
Ai Miao, long accustomed to rising early, woke on time. But the moment he moved, a wave of soreness spread through his waist. The memories of last night's indulgence flooded back, making his ears flush with heat.
"You're awake?" Gu Lian's voice was low and husky from sleep, his arm tightening around Ai Miao to keep him close. "I granted you three days off from morning court. Sleep a little longer."
Ai Miao sighed. "Your Majesty, though I'm excused from court, the Privy Council still has affairs to attend to…"
"Let them send everything to the bedchamber." Gu Lian didn't open his eyes, simply nuzzled his chin into Ai Miao's soft hair. "I'll read them with you."
It was clearly a ploy to keep him captive.
Ai Miao was about to protest again, but Gu Lian's hand began to gently knead his lower back—just the right pressure to ease the soreness. Ai Miao couldn't help but relax.
"When did Your Majesty learn this?" he asked, surprised.
Gu Lian chuckled. "Had the Imperial Physician teach me." His fingers moved with increasing skill. "After all… one must be prepared."
The implication made Ai Miao's cheeks burn. He buried his face in Gu Lian's chest and said no more.
The bedchamber fell quiet, filled only with the sound of their mingled breathing. Sunlight filtered through the gauzy canopy, casting dappled shadows on the brocade covers.
"Actually…" Ai Miao murmured suddenly, "about that grape stem yesterday—I figured it out."
"Hm?"
"When Your Majesty tied the knot, you used the base of your tongue, not the tip."
Gu Lian's hand paused. He opened his eyes and met Ai Miao's amused gaze.
"So Ai Qing thinks… I cheated?"
"I wouldn't dare." Ai Miao's eyes sparkled with mischief. "But if we wager again, I might not lose."
Gu Lian laughed, amused by this rare flash of playfulness. He flipped over and pinned Ai Miao beneath him. "Then shall we bet again? Let's see… whether you can get out of this dragon bed today."
Ai Miao gasped, only to be silenced by a kiss. Strands of dark hair spilled across the pillow, tangling with Gu Lian's.
Outside, a palace attendant stood holding a stack of memorials, listening to the faint sounds within. With practiced discretion, he quietly retreated to the corridor.
It seemed morning court was, indeed, canceled.
Mini-Theater ⑥: Grapes and a Wager · Afternoon
By late morning, the bedchamber finally stirred.
Gu Lian lounged at the edge of the bed in a loose robe, watching as Ai Miao struggled to sit up. His inner garment slipped from his shoulder, revealing scattered red marks that stood out vividly in the morning light.
"Your Majesty…" Ai Miao's voice was hoarse, tinged with mild reproach. "There's an urgent report from the border that needs attention."
Gu Lian reached out and pulled him back into his arms, fingers brushing over the marks. "Urgent? You're far more urgent." He picked up the dish of grapes from the nearby table, peeled one, and held it out. "Try this—fresh tribute from this morning."
Ai Miao accepted the grape from his hand. The sweet juice soothed his throat, but did nothing for the soreness in his body. He tried to rise again, only to be gently pressed back down.
"Do you take me for a negligent ruler?" Gu Lian chuckled, twirling the knotted grape stem from last night between his fingers. "I said no court for three days. I have my own arrangements."
Before he could finish, a eunuch's voice rang out from outside the chamber: "Your Majesty, the Marquis of the Northern Frontier requests an audience."
Ai Miao immediately tried to get up and dress, but Gu Lian held him down. The emperor calmly lowered the bed curtain, leaving only a narrow gap. "What is it?"
Outside, A Lie reported on border affairs in a loud, clear voice. Inside, Ai Miao froze, afraid to make the slightest sound. Gu Lian's hand, however, continued its mischievous path along his waist, prompting Ai Miao to bite his shoulder in alarm.
"Mm…" Gu Lian grunted softly, but his voice remained composed. "Approved. You may go."
Only when the footsteps faded did Ai Miao exhale and glare at the culprit.
Gu Lian rubbed the bite mark on his shoulder, clearly amused. "Is Ai Qing attempting regicide?"
"Your Majesty is clearly…" Ai Miao began, only to be silenced by another grape.
"If you still have the strength to bite me," Gu Lian leaned in, "then clearly I haven't worked hard enough."
The curtains fell again, making the grape dish tremble slightly.
By dusk, the eunuchs were finally permitted to deliver the memorials. Ai Miao, wrapped in brocade, watched as Gu Lian—now dressed in crimson robes—reviewed documents, occasionally asking for his opinion.
When a memorial concerning canal transport appeared, Ai Miao opened his mouth to speak—only to see Gu Lian had already written the exact comment he intended.
"How did Your Majesty know what I was thinking?"
Gu Lian set down his brush and scooped Ai Miao up, blanket and all. "Your canal reform plan—I've memorized it by heart." He kissed Ai Miao's surprised lips. "Now, it's time for dinner."
As for the dish of grapes—
It remained unfinished.
Mini-Theater ⑦: Grapes and a Wager · Night Visit
As evening fell, the bedchamber glowed with candlelight.
Gu Lian had truly ordered dinner to be served at the bedside. A small zitan table was laden with delicacies fit for a feast. Ai Miao, wrapped tightly in layers of cushions and blankets, watched as the emperor personally plated the dishes.
"Your Majesty, this is… highly improper," he protested, trying to sit up.
"I am propriety," Gu Lian replied with a grin, picking up a slice of perch sashimi, carefully removing the bones, and holding it to Ai Miao's lips. "Open up."
Ai Miao had no choice but to accept the offering, his dark eyes filled with helpless resignation. When Gu Lian brought over a spoonful of bird's nest porridge, he turned his head to avoid it. "I can feed myself."
"No." Gu Lian insisted, still holding the spoon. "I like feeding you."
They were mid-standoff when a eunuch's voice rang out from outside. The Marquis of the Northern Frontier, A Lie, and his wife Qing Ying had come to express their gratitude—Gu Lian had just bestowed a name upon their newborn son the day before.
Ai Miao froze, instinctively trying to burrow deeper into the blankets. Gu Lian burst into laughter and tucked the brocade tighter around him, leaving only a flushed face visible. "Let them in."
When A Lie entered, cradling the infant, he was greeted by the sight of his emperor seated at the bedside, and the famously composed Duke Wen'an bundled like a silkworm cocoon, only his blushing ears and mortified eyes peeking out.
"Your Majesty…" A Lie hesitated, unsure whether to kneel.
"No need for ceremony," Gu Lian waved him off, clearly in high spirits. "You've come at the perfect time. Let me see the little one."
The baby was unusually quiet in Gu Lian's arms, blinking up at him with wide, dark eyes. Gu Lian gently teased the child, a rare softness in his gaze. "A Lie, you're a lucky man."
He said it casually, but Ai Miao, still wrapped in the blankets, gave a faint shiver.
After the couple departed, the room fell quiet again. Gu Lian returned to the bedside and looked at Ai Miao, still bundled up tightly. He chuckled. "What's this? Afraid I'll get sentimental?" He twirled a strand of Ai Miao's dark hair around his finger. "Or is it that seeing their child reminded you of… our little plan, and now your heart's uneasy?"
Ai Miao slowly emerged from the covers. After a moment of silence, he gave a soft "Mm." As always, nothing escaped the emperor's eyes.
"I know what's troubling you," Gu Lian said, his tone turning serious. "You're afraid that the word 'adoption' will draw a line between us. That this child might take away even a fraction of my affection for you." He gently stroked Ai Miao's fingers. "But this past year, I've come to understand something."
His voice was steady and warm. "What we're looking for isn't a cold 'heir,' nor a placeholder for the Eastern Palace. We're looking for someone we're both willing to entrust everything to. Someone who will one day call us 'Father'—someone who can inherit both my empire and your integrity. This path isn't about adoption. It's about unity. That's the road we walk together."
His gaze was clear as glass. "The more I walk it, the more certain I become. It's not just about continuing the dynasty. It's about continuing us. So don't feel burdened by it."
Ai Miao looked at the man before him—no longer just a passionate youth, but a sovereign who had grown into his heart. That faint ache he'd felt earlier, born of comparison and uncertainty, finally melted away. Yes, Gu Lian's stubborn devotion had never changed. It had simply evolved—from the stormy demands of a rainy night to the steady, deliberate protection of today.
What he heard now wasn't a political arrangement. It was a solemn, tender promise about "us."
"I understand," he said softly, fingers tightening around Gu Lian's. "The child you choose… will be ours."
Gu Lian smiled, satisfied, and picked up the bowl of porridge again. "Then let me feed you first. As for the rest…" He lifted a spoonful to Ai Miao's lips, eyes gleaming with quiet certainty. "We'll find a way. I promised to share this empire with you."
Night deepened. The dish of grapes still sat on the table.
Gu Lian picked up the last one, but didn't eat it—just rolled it between his fingers.
"Tomorrow…" he murmured thoughtfully.
Ai Miao immediately tensed. "I should return to my manor."
"Don't even think about it." Gu Lian popped the grape into Ai Miao's mouth and leaned in for a kiss. "The wager still has two days left. Ai Qing… honor your loss."
The sweetness of the grape lingered between their lips, turning unspoken words into something far more intimate. Candlelight flickered, illuminating their entwined figures—and the future they would guard together, unlike any other.