7. Chapter 7

Xie Yu has been exiled, and so many pieces of the board have reshuffled that Meng Zhi honestly has no idea what is going on. Which is fine with him, as that is not his job anyway. He’s keeping the peace at the palace, not doing anything different than any other day — paperwork, mostly, which he hates a lot — when the bells start ringing.

He runs for the study where the emperor retreats after morning court, and finds him staring blindly at his desk. Eunuch Gao rests one hand his shoulder, an act so intimate that Meng Zhi has never seen the like before. He softly orders everyone but the necessary guards out and stands facing the closed door, his back to the emperor’s grief.

The Grand Empress Dowager was possibly one of the purest souls in the entire palace. Her entire reign was soaked in the blood of her husband and children and grandchildren but she, herself, never wavered in her kindness. He honestly has no idea how she even survived four generations of backstabbing palace politics in order to die peacefully of old age, although it is said that when she was she young she was not only beautiful but also the sharpest mind of her generation and her husband’s personal strategist — perhaps one reason she bonded so quickly with the young genius, Lin Shu. Perhaps, as her great-grand-nephew, he was one of the few who ever reminded her of herself. Meng Zhi personally blames her swift fall into dementia on the “death” of Lin Shu, not that he would say that to anyone. Especially not Mei Changsu, who adores her.

He blanks for a moment, thinking of his husband hearing the bells from their home. Meng Zhi cannot leave, there will be too much to do to ready the palace for the mourning period. He knows from experience that he won’t get home until late that night, if he’s lucky.

He hears the emperor roust himself from his shock and the process begins.

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Their relationship has been strained in a quiet way since Jingrui’s catastrophic birthday and the promise Meng Zhi forced between them. Mei Changsu has been cordial and professional with Meng Zhi, forsaking their previous camaraderie but not throwing him completely out of his confidence.

Meng Zhi is heartbroken to be held at arm’s length from his beloved, but he understands it. Mei Changsu only sees him now as someone he has bargained with, not a friend or a companion — worse, someone whose feelings for him are inappropriate and unwanted (ironically, Mei Changsu has many, many hopeless admirers in the jianghu, so what is one more?).

Meng Zhi has once again become just another piece on the board, nothing more. But, if that is the sole service he can provide to this man who means everything to him, then Meng Zhi will do it gratefully.

Which is why he does not expect to be allowed entry to Mei Changsu’s chambers when he is embracing his grief.

Instead of being locked out, he is shoved through the doors by Li Gang and Auntie Ji, expressions grim and their own exhaustion plain. It is early morning, just past dawn, and it is clear that they, like Meng Zhi, have been up all night. They don’t say anything but they don’t need to.

Mei Changsu is out on the cold patio, huddled under numerous robes and blankets next to a large brazier, head drooping.

Meng Zhi softly tells Auntie Ji to fetch some hot broth before going out to sit next to his husband.

They don’t talk for a moment.

“I just got home,” Meng Zhi finally offers. “Ironically, the palace in mourning is a very busy place.”

Mei Changsu simply nods.

Meng Zhi is not a subtle man, so he doesn’t try to be. He shifts over until their sides are pressed together, knees bumping, and waits. It takes a long time but eventually Mei Changsu relaxes into him, using Meng Zhi to brace himself, his body trembling with exhaustion and the cold air and the pain of his loss.

Li Gang appears with a tray of broth and tea, moving to put it next to Mei Changsu until Meng Zhi points to the space next to him. Mei Changsu is in no shape to hold cups of hot liquid.

They spend their morning like this, with staff coming and going around them, preparing their own manor for mourning. Meng Zhi takes up the cup of broth first and spoon feeds it to his husband, then follows with the tea, letting him sip it from the cup until it is empty. It says everything about Mei Changsu’s grief that he allows himself to be coddled in such a way.

Fei Liu pops up every now and again, upset, but Mei Changsu is too focused on staring at the coals in the brazier to notice him. Meng Zhi shakes his head and sends him off to play with his brothers for the meantime, since their morning classes are definitely cancelled. Li Gang checks on him as well, so Meng Zhi asks him to keep all the boys busy for the rest of the day.

When the sun is up and even the birds are done with their morning rituals, Mei Changsu takes a rattling breath. “I had hoped...I had prayed that she would be able to see me again.”

Meng Zhi, his arm slung low around Mei Changsu’s waist, squeezes him gently. “She did. She recognized you.”

“Yes but—”

“No, do not torture yourself like this! She saw her great-grand nephew Lin Shu. She held your hand. She called you by your name. You gave her peace of mind, which I can assure you she has not had outside of her dementia. Ever since...ever since Prince Qi died, every lucid moment was torture for her. To see you again, to know you are alive, that was enough. You allowed her to die in peace, Xiao Shu .”

Mei Changsu takes another breath then hides his face in the sleeve of his robe, his arm shaking. Meng Zhi shifts to pull Mei Changsu into his arms, turning him so they are chest-to-chest, Mei Changsu’s legs curled around his hip. Mei Changsu grabs at his robes and tries to hold himself together, but the effort is too much for him mentally and physically. When Meng Zhi rubs his hand down his back for the first time, Mei Changsu loses all composure and sobs into his neck.

It is quiet around them, the whole household sensing that silence is needed right now. Meng Zhi pulls Mei Changsu closer, lets his husband cry out too many years of sorrow he has suffered alone.

Something grabs his attention and he looks up, surprised to find Nihuang standing across the garden, watching them. He instinctively tightens his hold around Mei Changsu, but she only smiles sadly at him and nods before turning away.

It is only then, in the moment she puts her back to them, that Meng Zhi realizes that she knows. She knows that Mei Changsu is Lin Shu, and probably has known for a long time now.

Yet, she has never once encroached on Mei Changsu’s marriage to Meng Zhi, never given any hint that she would try to reclaim Mei Changsu’s affections.

He does not know what that means. It is not his business though, so he puts it out of his mind as she walks away.

Eventually, Mei Changsu’s body gives out and he collapses bonelessly against Meng Zhi, asleep. He gently picks his husband up and carries him inside, putting him carefully to bed. Fei Liu sneaks in not long after that and cuddles up to his father, looking sad and confused. Meng Zhi strokes his hair, and Fei Liu lets him for a moment before burrowing under the covers.

He turns to leave but feels his hand being grabbed. He turns back to fuss at Fei Liu but sees Mei Changsu looking up at him through tired eyes. “Stay?” Mei Changsu tugs at their joined hands.

Meng Zhi is exhausted himself, and possibly not thinking clearly, when he nods and crawls in next to Mei Changsu. Fei Liu grumbles from under the blankets but then throws an arm over both of his fathers. It is instinct from a marriage long past for Meng Zhi to pull Mei Changsu to him, curl around him protectively, and kiss the delicate skin behind his ear. Mei Changsu gasps softly, but Meng Zhi, already slipping away himself, tells his husband to be quiet and go to sleep. He may or may not say that he loves him, but that is known already and doesn’t matter.