Chapter 8: Emperor Wei Chenglie – The Painting of Barbarian Attire and Mounted Archery

When Qin Xuanxiao returned from court, he found Qin Duo also leaning by the bedside, casually dressed in a dark-colored nightgown, his black hair loose, head bowed as he flipped through a book in his hands.

A small wooden desk stood beside the bed, holding a bowl of white tea, the delicate aroma wafting gently from its rim.

Qin Xuanxiao felt a stir within and took a couple of steps forward, his footsteps echoing on the floor.

Hearing the footsteps, Qin Duo did not lift his head, merely responding lightly, “Back already?”

As he spoke, he turned another page in the book he held.

The ease in his posture was as if the imperial palace were his own home. Qin Xuanxiao froze for a moment, inexplicably struck by a sudden resentment toward the morning court session.

There, he faced one detestable face after another, only to come home and see this person, occupying his bed, drinking his tea, reading his books—and upon his return, not even offering him a proper glance.

Carved from the same mold as those haughty palace servants!

Qin Xuanxiao removed his outer robe and hung it on the screen, preparing to go to the inner chamber to change. Passing by the bed, he casually asked, “What are you reading?”

“The biography of Emperor Wei Chenglie,” Qin Duo answered offhandedly.

The footsteps toward the inner chamber abruptly halted.

Qin Xuanxiao strode to the bedside, grabbed Qin Duo’s wrist, snatched the book, and flipped to the title page.

“?” Qin Duo, caught off guard, looked up at Qin Xuanxiao’s furrowed brow as he examined the book, then understood: “I didn’t touch the book on your desk. I asked Gou Hongyang to fetch this one for me instead.”

Qin Xuanxiao’s hand paused mid-flip; his frown softened as he glanced at the indifferent figure on the bed. A complex emotion flickered in his phoenix-like eyes.

This person… you could say he was respectful, but his recent actions were almost trampling on imperial authority and power. Every move was irreverent; never had a minister been so at ease in the palace—commanding the chief eunuch was one thing, but directing the emperor himself so bluntly was quite another.

Yet, if you said he was reckless, he wouldn’t casually touch the room’s furnishings—showing a peculiar obedience.

Qin Duo raised an eyebrow, noticing Qin Xuanxiao’s expression, a mischievous grin tugging at his lips: “What’s wrong? Could it be that my emperor has hidden some secret in that book?”

Qin Xuanxiao replied dryly, “I simply detest anyone moving my things without permission.”

He sneered and released his grip, letting the book thud against Qin Duo’s forehead.

Qin Duo clutched his head: “...”

How could this brat be so petty—holding grudges and avenging them face-to-face!

“So, what made you want to read this book?” Qin Xuanxiao decided not to leave and took a step closer to the bed.

Qin Duo picked up the scroll again, glanced at Qin Xuanxiao, then shifted inward on the bed to make room for him.

“I’m lonely in the harem, always longing for Your Majesty. With nothing else to do, I can only find some books to pass the time,” Qin Duo drawled lazily, eyes fixed on the text as he turned another page.

Not really.

The emperor just wanted to see how future generations wrote about his heroic demeanor and praised his achievements.

Ah, this was truly gratifying.

The posthumous title ‘Chenglie’—‘Cheng’ symbolizing pacification of the people and virtuous governance, ‘Lie’ representing vast holy achievements, purifying the realm, and commanding the world.

Not satisfied with just that, they added the character ‘Sheng’—meaning the emperor’s unparalleled talent in ruling and bringing peace, equating his merits to those of a sage.

Clearly, after his death, the civil and military officials mourned deeply, together bestowing such an illustrious posthumous name. The historian was quite skilled, practically elevating the emperor to divine status.

To be an emperor remembered so gloriously through the ages—

All the toil of my previous life was worth it.

Unaware of Qin Duo’s thoughts, Qin Xuanxiao assumed he was mocking himself and seized the opportunity to tease, “You’ve adjusted well to the role of a male favorite.”

“Of course,” Qin Duo closed the book and watched Qin Xuanxiao climb onto the bed and lean closer. “This identity is useful; it lets me obey your orders discreetly. No one knows what we say when we’re together.”

Qin Xuanxiao stared for two seconds, scoffed, “Still calling me ‘Your Majesty’ and calling yourself ‘subject’? Stop pretending—you’ve never treated me with formality.”

Qin Duo: “...”

“Alright,” Qin Duo shrugged, “What do you want to do now?”

Suddenly, Qin Xuanxiao’s strength pulled Qin Duo down. He crashed into soft cloud brocade and plush pillows as Qin Xuanxiao’s arm wrapped around his waist, lying together on the bed.

He saw Qin Xuanxiao’s eyes close and heard the usual mocking tone soften, “Keep me company for a short rest; we’ll have lunch together when I wake.”

Qin Duo quietly studied Qin Xuanxiao’s features. With his phoenix eyes shut, the usual fierce intensity softened, thick lashes casting a shadow beneath.

He seemed more docile, more youthful.

Qin Duo relaxed too, stretching out comfortably and lying down.

Though his body was weak, his spirit was alert. But once lying down, weariness overwhelmed him, and he closed his eyes, surrendering to sleep.

Yet, once Qin Duo fell into deep slumber, Qin Xuanxiao opened his eyes, clear and sleepless.

His gaze fixed dangerously on Qin Duo’s face, examining his brows and lips, thoughts inscrutable, a tumultuous undercurrent swirling deep in his eyes.

After a long moment, he rose from the bed, careful not to wake Qin Duo, and went to the desk within the chamber.

On the desk lay a volume titled *The Book of Wei: The Biography of Emperor Wei Chenglie Sheng*. He opened it casually; the blank spaces were filled with dense, tiny handwritten annotations.

They were his own impromptu notes.

After staring at the biography for a few moments, he stretched out his hand, pulled open a drawer beneath the desk, revealing numerous books and scrolls—all related to Emperor Wei Chenglie.

Qin Xuanxiao picked up a scroll and unfurled it. It depicted Emperor Wei Chenglie in Hu-style attire, practicing mounted archery.

If Qin Duo saw this painting, he would surely remember—it was the final training scene before the emperor personally led a campaign to the northern frontier, rehearsed at the Changye army camp.

Unexpectedly, the accompanying historian and painter had recorded it.

Having grown up on the frontier, Qin Xuanxiao had learned to ride and shoot from his father, honing his skills by adopting the strengths of the northern barbarians.

His mounted archery was unmatched even across the entire Changye army.

Hence, during military training, he not only devised training programs but also occasionally demonstrated techniques during drills, instructing soldiers and commanders alike on mastering the horse and integrating it perfectly with swordsmanship, spear work, and saber skills.

In the painting, the young emperor looked spirited and confident, hair tied high, clad in light armor and a battle robe. His warhorse reared its front legs, hooves stirring stones and dust.

The emperor sat astride the horse, legs gripping its belly, a broken city halberd on his back, both hands drawing a bow taut, muscles flexed, the arrowhead gleaming coldly. A red tassel fluttered in the wind.

Qin Xuanxiao gazed silently at the image; due to the angle, the emperor’s eyes were obscured by his hair and the bowstring.

Yet inexplicably, Qin Xuanxiao felt a tremor in his heart, suddenly thinking—if those eyes...

He turned around and glanced at the sleeping figure on the bed.

Pale, sickly, and slender—his wrist bones clearly visible beneath the skin.

Far from resembling Emperor Wei Chenglie.

But why did Qin Xuanxiao feel that if those very eyes belonged to this person in the painting—the calm, sharp, invincible, ink-black eyes—they would be perfectly fitting?

Qin Xuanxiao returned the book and scroll to the drawer, closed it, and locked it securely.