Everyone in the capital knew that Su Yan of the Duke of Zhenguo’s household was a hopeless wastrel: red robes worn open at the chest, spending every night in brothels and gambling dens, while his father chased him through the streets with a stick. No one knew that beneath his rakish facade lay a blade, wielded to purge the court on behalf of the late emperor.
Then he took a tumble straight into Regent King Ming Shuye’s carriage and crashed into those eyes, as cold and deep as an ancient well. The man commanded armies and held power over the entire court, yet had spent nine years cultivating a life of solitude in a Buddhist temple. Looking at that unsullied figure, Su Yan had only one thought: drag him down from his altar and roll around in the mud with him.
He flirted with him, teased him, and watched his cool mask crack, piece by piece. But when Su Yan was poisoned, unconscious, and on the brink of death, the regent, who had always been composed, stormed through half the capital with a heavy sword, his eyes red with tears. Only then did Su Yan understand: he had belonged to the regent all along.
The two tested and entangled with each other amid political schemes and flashing blades, until they entrusted each other with their hearts. One fell from the clouds, the other rose from the mire, and at last, amid the chaos of a troubled age, they held on to each other.
You are the only person in the little world of my heart who leaves no room for anyone else.
Good-looking, good-looking, good-looking, good-looking, good-looking 💕