In the eighth year of the Jiasheng era, the emperor died. Imperial tutor Shen Heng supported the young crown prince, Song Nanqing, to ascend the throne, becoming the regent prince to assist the young ruler. The emperor revered him as “Father-in-law,” and for a time, Shen Heng held unparalleled power in the court.

Song Nanqing’s childhood in the palace consisted of the beatings Shen Heng gave him when he made mistakes, the handwritten instructions he received, and the warmth of Shen Heng holding him in his arms during thunderstorms. The regent prince was like a teacher and a father to him, teaching him how to be an emperor and how to recognize and utilize talent. He also took care of his hair, dressed him in his imperial robes, and made him snacks, attending to everything without relying on others.

As he grew older, more and more ministers from the previous dynasty urged the emperor to assume personal rule, take concubines, and marry an empress. Rumors circulated that the regent was manipulating the court and corrupting the young emperor, his intentions deemed reprehensible.

Inside the palace, Song Nanqing lay on the regent’s lap, eating osmanthus cake fed to him by the prince. His gaze swept across portraits, his fingers tracing patterns on the prince’s knees, hooking his belt. He spoke to the rumored treacherous regent, Shen Heng, saying,

“Sir, I think none of these women would be as good as you as an empress.”

Shen Heng’s eyes darkened, and he grasped Song Nanqing’s fingers, saying, “I think you need a lesson.”

Outside the window, the crabapple blossoms swayed, their delicate pink petals carpeting the ground, dew wetting the clothes in the moonlight. To be a feared emperor, in order to save his life and seize power, he did not care whether he used the Strategies of the Warring States or the Ten Arts of Manipulating Men, as long as he could control people’s hearts.

The next day at court, Song Nanqing sat upright on the dragon throne, facing a land ravaged by floods and plagues, desperately needing a capable minister to guard it. He tilted his head and looked at Shen Heng.

“With your assistance, Father, I am sure you can quell the disaster and restore peace to the Great Sheng Dynasty.”

Shen Heng, dressed in a black robe, received the decree with clasped hands. In his farewell letter, every word was powerful and vigorous, the ink soaking the back of the paper: “Last night’s address was far more pleasing than today’s address to Father. How will Your Majesty repay me when I return?”

Song Nanqing threw the letter to the ground, angrily shouting at his departing figure, “We will talk about it when you get back!”

As emperor, Shen Heng was more capable than him, but when it came to love, the outcome was still uncertain.

Song Nanqing thought he had love in his grasp, but little did he know he would encounter Shen Heng. Snowflakes fluttered down, the flames burning inside the house reflected in his eyes. Song Nanqing felt a hot hand grip his neck, and when he looked up, he met a burning, obsessive gaze.

“What’s wrong? Didn’t you say you loved me the most? You wanted to run away after finding out I am your older brother? Which of your words, Qingqing, are true?”

The fire glowed red, yet Song Nanqing felt a chill run through him. “You knew all along, you knew all along and still”

Shen Heng’s lips curled into a chilling smile. “You dared to lie to me, so what are you afraid of, this mere blood connection?”

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