Chapter 103: Heart-to-Heart Conversation

Yan Yan’s mastery of tears was truly impressive. Yan thought that if it weren’t for the three children who started wailing loudly afterward, Yan Yan might have really cried until morning. Early the next day, the very first thing Yan opened his eyes to was Yan Yan still asleep, his eyes red and brows tightly furrowed.

Yan thought to himself that perhaps he had genuinely frightened Yan Yan, even though he had sent word to reassure him and arranged tasks for him. By all accounts, Yan Yan had performed well, yet he was still scared. Though outwardly strong and busy with his duties, he still worried about Yan—these days must have been hard on him.

Yan also knew that Yan Yan was unhappy living in the rear courtyard; there was no one there he could truly speak to. Perhaps news reaching the Dong’e family was deliberately withheld. Perhaps in these days, Yan Yan had been ostracized or wronged in the rear courtyard.

Yan gently touched Yan Yan’s face and pressed a light kiss to his cheek before rising and having someone help him dress neatly as he prepared to attend court.

With only a few days left until the Eight Banners competition, Yan had little time to spend with Yan Yan. That single kiss held so much helplessness and concern.

He quietly made a plan for after the New Year—to take Yan Yan on a trip south. For some reason, Yan felt Yan Yan did not want to remain quietly in the rear courtyard; his intuition told him Yan Yan did not belong there.

But for now, Yan could not devote himself fully to Yan Yan, so he gave himself a deadline. That day at court, Yan was in an unusually good mood, his face bright as spring.

Even the Tenth Prince noticed and nudged Yan’s side: “Brother Nine, you’re really in a different state now that you’re home. Look at you, all smiles—makes one truly envious.”

Yan glared at the Tenth Prince with a hint of annoyance: “Are you itching to be troublesome? If so, go practice your punches with the Fourteenth Prince, and stop bothering me here.”

The Fourteenth Prince, standing not far behind, immediately protested: “Brother Nine, that’s unfair! At least make the Tenth Prince carry stones at the venue. Those two have already carried quite a few.”

Yan shot the Fourteenth Prince a look that held a special sort of meaning. The Tenth Prince also glared at the Fourteenth, but the latter thought the look from the Tenth Prince was filled with murderous intent, nowhere near as comforting as Yan’s gaze.

Meanwhile, Emperor Kangxi was clearly in high spirits, announcing at court the prizes for the Eight Banners competition, stirring excitement among all the civil and military officials. The prize was a gold medal personally inscribed by Kangxi himself.

Such a prize electrified all participants, who shouted and clamored for victory. Carried by this fervor, the families of the contestants expressed a strong desire to attend, soon followed by the entire Eight Banners community. Eventually, even the common people wished to witness the event.

Faced with overwhelming demand, Yan proposed selling tickets, drawing ire from many nobles and powerful families who accused him of being a profiteer since the front-row seats cost a staggering one thousand taels.

No one wanted to openly accept such a loss, so they took their grievances to Emperor Kangxi, who smiled and said, “This event is entirely funded by Yintang, so I…” His meaning was clear. The nobles left dejected.

A few days later, the same nobles returned, accusing Yan of discrimination: tickets sold to them cost one thousand taels, while those for the common people were only a few wen, which they claimed was unfair.

Kangxi, still in good spirits, replied, “I am old; let Yintang handle these matters. His pricing seems reasonable—after all, your lives are comfortable. If I sold tickets to the common people for a thousand taels, then perhaps I might intervene.”

This one sentence sent the nobles away once more, tails between their legs. When Yan heard this, he deeply admired his father’s cunning. All proceeds went into Kangxi’s coffers, yet he insisted everyone believe it was Yintang himself collecting the money—truly sly.

What neither Kangxi nor Yan expected was that the tickets sold out remarkably fast—in just one day. Yet Yan had no time to celebrate, as he was as busy as a spinning top, constantly shuttling between palace and venue, rarely returning home.

On Yan Yan’s side, preparations were also going smoothly. At least, the feedback Yan received was very positive. Three days before the opening, small carts with awnings arrived, arranged neatly. Each bore signs advertising snacks—tofu pudding, fried liver, deep-fried sausage—practically bringing all of Beijing’s street food to the venue.

Yan was surprised when he saw this during his inspection. He had heard of Yan Yan’s idea but thought it difficult to realize. Yet Yan Yan had truly pulled it off.

Yan casually approached a stall, watching the vendors busily preparing. Everything was spotless—the cart, the cutting boards, the bowls and dishes—inviting appetite at first glance. Yan smiled faintly, once again impressed with Yan Yan’s capabilities.

Two days before the opening, Yan was almost living at the venue, watching the Eight Banners soldiers rehearse and drill non-stop, pointing out flaws. Not only Yan, but also the Tenth Prince, Qin Daoran, and Mu Jingyuan were swamped with work. The Fourteenth Prince hadn’t returned to the palace for days, his complexion darkened.

In the late night hours, Yan sat wearily in a corner of the stands, gazing at the large, bustling venue, letting out a long sigh. After months of toil, his efforts were finally bearing fruit.

Now, Yan’s feelings about the upcoming event were a mix of anxiety and anticipation—complex emotions that drew another deep sigh.

“Why are you sighing, my lord?” came a sudden voice, making Yan turn in surprise.

Yan Yan stood there wearing a deep blue qipao, draped in a large cloak and a veil, playfully looking at Yan. Yan’s eyes widened: “What are you doing here?”

Yan Yan mischievously sat beside Yan, linking his arm through his and leaning on his shoulder. The swift sequence of gestures left Yan a little stunned before he smiled helplessly.

Yan Yan spoke softly again: “You haven’t told me why you sighed yet.”

Yan patted Yan Yan’s head: “I didn’t sigh, you misheard.”

Pouting, Yan Yan grumbled, “You’re brushing me off again. You clearly sighed.”

Suddenly, Yan Yan leaned forward with a sly grin: “Are you feeling sentimental because these past months weren’t in vain?”

He stepped down from the platform in tall platform shoes, his long arms swinging as he laughed: “When this grand event takes place the day after tomorrow, you’ll feel so great. I’m telling you, this is a groundbreaking event, one for the history books. You’ll be remembered forever, truly. Rest assured!”

Yan looked deeply at Yan Yan and smiled gently but said nothing. Curious, Yan Yan bent slightly forward: “What are you thinking about? Won’t you tell me?”

Yan shook his head. Yan Yan’s lips curled up as he pointed a finger at Yan’s shoulder, teasing: “Don’t be shy, my lord!”

Yan smiled again, his large palm taking Yan Yan’s hand and pulling him into a warm embrace. Startled, Yan Yan gasped softly: “My lord…”

“Shh, don’t speak,” Yan finally whispered, holding Yan Yan still as he gazed intently at the venue.

Yan Yan obediently closed his mouth but soon lifted his head, looking up at Yan with wide eyes.

Yan looked at him tenderly: “Why can’t you be quiet for a moment?”

Yan Yan burst into a big smile, sticking out his tongue playfully and whispering, “I’m worried about you, my lord—afraid you’ll be nervous or lonely. That’s why I risked sneaking out, even if the consort finds out. You’re acting like this toward me—I’m so wronged…”

Before Yan Yan could finish, Yan pressed his lips firmly against his. Yan Yan’s eyes widened in surprise, blinking as Yan gently bit his lips, deepening the kiss. His slippery tongue slipped inside, stirring every breath Yan Yan took, stealing every ounce of air.

Yan felt dizzy again, realizing how foolish she had been to underestimate herself—after all, she and Yan had children together, yet she still felt faint from a kiss.

Her legs weakened, but Yan’s strong arms held her firmly. He gently bit her ear, murmuring, “Focus.” Yan blinked, her ear—like a precious ingot—enclosed by his warm lips, sending shivers through her.

Yan felt utterly lost, completely immersed in Yan’s tenderness. In this vast venue, the place where Yan had labored so hard, their hearts melded into one.