Chapter 21

The Emperor's tent was dimly lit, the scent of warm sandalwood lingering beneath the soft crackle of the brazier. The world outside was shut away, leaving only the flicker of lanternlight and the two of them—alone.

Yu Chen stumbled as they crossed the threshold, the effects of the wine making him pliant, his body a little too warm. A breathless laugh escaped his lips, low and sweet, as he swayed into the Emperor's chest, the fabric of his robes brushing against the harder planes of muscle beneath.

"Careful," the Emperor murmured, voice a low rumble as his arm circled around Yu Chen's waist, steadying him. His grip was firm, yet there was an unmistakable tenderness in the way his fingers pressed, as though afraid Yu Chen might break beneath them.

"I'm fine," Yu Chen whispered, though his voice betrayed him, hushed and slurred as his lashes fluttered. He was far from fine—heat burned beneath his skin, the flush of wine painting his cheeks and making his lips an inviting shade of red.

The Emperor's hand didn't move. "You're drunk." His voice was deep and steady, but there was a quiet strain beneath it, as though he was holding something tightly reined. "You shouldn't have indulged so recklessly."

Yu Chen looked up at him, his head tilted, the pale curve of his neck visible beneath the loosened folds of his robe. His lips parted slightly, and his breath was warm and sweet from the alcohol. "Are you… scolding me, Your Majesty?" he whispered, teasingly close.

The Emperor's face darkened, and his palm tightened slightly around Yu Chen's waist before exhaling sharply.

"Bai Yu Chen," the Emperor spoke in a low, dangerous voice, his breath warm against Yu Chen's cheek. "My restraint is only so much, therefore I suggest you behave yourself—or risk not getting up from my bed at all."

Yu Chen stiffened at the threat, his breath hitching. His heart pounded as the Emperor's palm pressed firmly against his waist, the heat searing through the silk layers between them. Yet it wasn't the fear of the words themselves that left him trembling—it was the promise behind them, dark and lingering.

The Emperor smirked, the corner of his lips curling as he felt Yu Chen's body react, pliant yet defiant beneath his touch. Without a word, he guided him further, each step backwards slow, deliberate, until the backs of Yu Chen's knees pressed against the edge of the bed.

A low, murmured command followed, his voice still thick with restrained heat.

"Wang Xun. Sobering soup. Now."

The eunuch bowed and retreated without a word, the soft swish of the curtain closing leaving nothing but silence—the charged tension between them coiling tighter with each breath.

Yu Chen shifted, his pulse a wild staccato beneath the Emperor's fingertips, yet he didn't break eye contact. His gaze, hazy and heavy with wine, lingered on the Emperor's face—searching, testing, challenging.

And then, his lips curled. Just slightly. A smile. Dangerous. Vulnerable. Daring.

"Your Majesty…" Yu Chen whispered, voice a breathless hush, his fingers curling into the Emperor's robes, not in protest—but to hold him closer. His head tilted back, exposing the pale line of his throat, his body bending beneath the Emperor's guiding hands, yet his eyes… his eyes still held fire.

"What if I want to risk it?"

The words lingered in the charged space between them, barely a whisper, yet they felt heavier than anything Yu Chen had spoken before.

What was he saying?

The heat of the wine clouded his thoughts, but not enough to make him blind to the weight of the Emperor's touch. His breath came faster, lips parted as he searched the face above him, the Emperor's features half-shadowed in the low lantern light, those sharp phoenix eyes like molten gold—fierce, all-consuming. And still, the Emperor held himself back, his grip steady but measured, as if balancing on a knife's edge between control and something far more dangerous.

Yu Chen trembled.

What am I doing?

He was a man. His body should not be reacting like this, not to another man. Had the alcohol dulled his senses so much? His thoughts tangled, but even as confusion clouded his mind, his body betrayed him—his pulse racing, his skin tingling beneath the Emperor's fingertips where they pressed into his waist, his hip, searing through the silk as if branding him.

No woman had ever stirred such feelings within him. Not a single one had left his heart pounding this way, had drawn his gaze in the quiet hours the way the Emperor did. Yet… he'd never looked at a man this way either. Had never wanted like this.

So why was the Emperor different?

Why did he want to let go of everything—his restraint, his guarded walls—just for this man? Why did he crave the press of those lips against his, the heat of that gaze devouring him whole?

Why did he ache for the strength in those hands—to feel them not just steadying him, but claiming him?

Yu Chen's gaze dropped, settling on the Emperor's mouth, his breath catching as the tension between them coiled tighter, the space too small, the heat unbearable.

The Emperor's face was unreadable, but his eyes... they were anything but calm. He was watching Yu Chen as if daring him to break first.

And perhaps it was the wine.

Or perhaps it was something far more dangerous—something Yu Chen could no longer fight.

He exhaled shakily, his hand lifting from where it trembled at his side, fingertips brushing the edge of the Emperor's collar. His pulse roared louder as his fingers curled, grasping the fabric of the Emperor's robes, not to push him away—but to pull him closer.

Gulping, Yu Chen's mouth was suddenly dry as he leaned in his mouth brushing against those sweet, moist lips.

For the briefest moment, it was as if the Emperor wavered—as if some silent battle raged behind his eyes, torn between duty and desire.

But then he moved.

Swift. Decisive.

His hand slid from Yu Chen's waist to the curve of his neck, cradling him with a reverence that stole the breath from Yu Chen's lungs. His thumb traced a slow, deliberate line along the pulse hammering at Yu Chen's throat, lingering there as though to remind him who held him like this and his tongue slid across his lips.

As if on reflex yu chen opened his mouth and the tongue swept into his mouth tangling with his own then sliding across his teeth and rubbing against the flesh of his cheeks. The kiss was passionate and yu chen could not help the moan that escaped him involuntarily.

The fire was unbearable, the taste of him—dark, intoxicating, utterly consuming—sending his mind reeling. He clung to the Emperor's robes, fingers fisting the fabric, desperate for more. His body arched, pressing into the solid heat pinning him,

And Yu Chen—lost, drunk not on wine but on him—surrendered completely.

His breath was stolen, his body trembling, yet it wasn't fear he felt.

It was the unbearable ache of being wanted.

Of being claimed.

The kiss broke only when the need for air became too much, the Emperor pulling back just enough to let their foreheads touch, both of them breathless.

"Is this truly what you want? If you tell me no, I will stop. But if you say yes…" the Emperor whispered, his voice hoarse, his thumb brushing once more against Yu Chen's swollen lips, gaze still heavy with unspoken hunger. "If you say yes," the Emperor murmured, his voice almost breaking, "I will not hold back."

The wine fogged Yu Chen's senses, yet clarity pierced through the haze as he stared into the face of the man who held him so carefully, as though afraid he might break.

The brush of the Emperor's lips against his own haunted him still, the warmth of those hands pressing into his waist lingering like fire. His skin tingled where the Emperor touched him, and yet he felt cold where he didn't—desperate for more, yet unsure why it felt like surrendering would change everything.

He swallowed, lips parting to speak, but the words tangled on his tongue.

The Emperor waited, unwavering, the heat in his eyes smouldering but restrained. Barely. His breath was warm against Yu Chen's cheek, but his hands… his hands never moved. He was waiting. Holding back.

"Yu Chen," the Emperor whispered, his voice softer now, almost pained. "Say the word, and I will stop."

But Yu Chen didn't want him to stop.

Not now. Not when his body felt like this. Not when this ache, this longing, felt so sharp, so undeniable.

A shiver ran through Yu Chen, his fingers trembling as they lifted—hesitant at first—until they brushed over the Emperor's wrist, where his hand cradled his face.

He leaned into the touch. Chose it.

"Yes," Yu Chen whispered, his voice no louder than a breath, but his gaze never wavered. His heart was pounding so loud he was certain the Emperor could hear it. "Yes, Your Majesty. I want this. I want you."