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spicychickenyang · 1 year

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The Emperor and the BNF

Hi everyone. I came across this short story a while ago and was so amused I knew I had to translate it into English to share with more folks. It's not MDZS, but I think those of you who are danmei fans will get a kick out of it nonetheless 😄

《皇帝与同人圈大手》作者：吕天逸 The Emperor and the BNF Author: Lü Tiansu

Rating: M (sexual content, non-explicit)

Once upon a time, there was a scholar who flunked his exams.

The scholar came from a poor family, plus he was a scrawny weakling, with no skills beyond reading and writing.

In order to make a living, the scholar set up a small booth where he scribed letters, sold calligraphy and art, and helped copy books.

One day, a young woman arrived stealthily at the scholar's booth. Based on her clothing, she seemed like a lady from a wealthy family; based on her expression, she seemed to have snuck out from her home.

The young woman pulled a book from her bosom, and held it out to the scholar. "Make an identical copy for me. I'll pick up seven days from now."

Having said that, she tossed a piece of silver at the scholar.

The scholar took the book, and flushed red. "And the cover?"

The young woman: "Draw it too; exactly the same."

The scholar: "..."

The cover blatantly depicted two nude men in a tender embrace.

The scholar, at a loss: "This... this is pornography?"

The young woman's eyes flashed with a piercing light, and instinctively she put on a sales pitch: "No way, this is an illustrated fic for the sitting Emperor and the High General of Zhennan. It's a super hot ship, and this is an entry piece; it's super rare. I missed the preorder, and it sold out before I could get my hands on one, so I had to borrow one from my girlfriends to make a copy for my own collection."

Tremulously, the scholar flipped open a page, and—

The Emperor: "Does Our Royal Pillar please you?"

The General moaned, "P-please..."

The scholar snapped the book shut as if he'd seen a ghost. "This, this is sacrilegious! We'll lose our heads!"

The young woman waved her hand. "Aiya, what's so sacrilegious about it. His Majesty is clearly the gong, he's on top."

Scholar: "..."

Young woman: "There's also the Emperor/his right-hand attendant, the Emperor/the Royal Architect, the Emperor/the Chancellor, Emperor/the imperial exam valedictorian, tons of ships out there, but His Majesty is always the gong, may he live forever. There's no problem."

Scholar: "..."

The current emperor had taken the throne at age sixteen. Young and handsome, he's well-loved amidst the common folk.

Young woman: "Aiya, I'm done talking to you; I've been out for too long. Take care copying the book; be careful not to get it dirty, each book costs two ounces silver!"

The scholar's hand quivered.

Two ounces of silver for a single book!

Holding back a headache, the scholar read through the book cover to cover.

Apart from the Emperor and the General's names, the entire work was smut, up to 95% smut content.

Scholar: "..."

I can write this crap too!

Yours truly's prose is even better than theirs!

Thinking again of two ounces of silver per book, the scholar's mindset cleared up.

With a clench of his teeth and a cross of his heart, the scholar stepped onto the path of sin.

He wrote up a little novella of his own.

The scholar is an academic, with more rigorous standards for himself. He felt it wasn't sufficiently literary to write pure smut, so he added some soap opera dramatics as well.

In the story, the scholar wrote that the High General of Zhennan went down south, bearing imperial orders to put down a rebellion. In the chaos of battle he was heavily injured, lost his memory, and was staying at a civilian household while his wounds healed. The emperor, having waited long for the general's return, personally set out to find him, but the general no longer recognized him. The emperor brought the general back to the palace and, in order to help the general recover his memory, would ensure daily that the general was helpless to leave his bed. The writing was refined and intricate, savory enough to cause nosebleeds.

Seven days later, the young woman came to pick up her order.

The scholar delivered his goods, then took out the book he wrote and passed it over, clasping his hands to bow towards the Emperor's palace and at the same time saying, "In the past few days, this one made an attempt at writing a story about His Majesty and the High General of Zhennan, if it would trouble Mademoiselle to give an evaluation."

The young woman accepted the scholar's novella.

A stick of incense's time later, the young woman was a puddle of tears in front of the scholar's booth.

The young woman, through snot and tears: "Hiding blades within the smut, it's too cruel!"

The scholar was frozen, scared out of his wits.

The young woman dried her tears, calmed her expression, and gazed at the scholar with a face full of adoration. "So you are actually a grandmaster of angst."

The scholar was befuddled. "Angst? Grandmaster?"

The young woman: "Aiya, it's all just terminology, you'll understand later. How much for this fic of yours?"

The scholar was slightly confounded. "If... This one only has the one draft; it's gone if I sell it. If Mademoiselle desires it, please allow this one to make a duplicate copy."

The young woman flicked her hand. "Aiya, how long is it going to take you to copy it on your own. I'll help you contact a copy factory and make like eight or ten hundred copies. Grandmaster, you write so well, it'll definitely make a killing! If you don't have enough money I'll make up the starting cost for you!"

Overjoyed, the scholar clasped his hands in thanks. "I shall remember this favor and generosity to the end of my days. May I ask how to address my benefactor?"

Young woman: "My family name's Gong; why don't you call me Gong Zuoshi."

Following the address Gong Zuoshi provided, the scholar found his way to the copy factory.

In that day and age, there was no printing press, so everything had to be copied by hand. A mid-tier copy factory has at least a few hundred scribes, each with god-tier speed and skill at the brush, and can even imitate many different script types. But they don't accept small batch orders; minimum is five hundred prints to start.

The scholar passed the book and the silver voucher Gong Zuoshi lent him to the copy factory's foreman.

The foreman was suspicious. "Who referred you?"

Scholar: "Mademoiselle Gong Zuoshi."

The foreman breathed a sigh of relief. "Good. These days the imperial guards are cracking down; for sacreligious smut books we only accept orders from known customers."

The scholar wiped away his sweat. "Understood, understood."

Foreman: "How many copies do you want?"

Scholar: "One thousand."

Foreman: "What fonts?"

Scholar: "Two hundred sans-serif gothic, two hundred brush script, two hundred comic font, two hundred bubble letters, two hundred curly cues. We'll do a variety of fonts so that the customers have more options. Thanks a lot."

Foreman: "What about targeted marketing and publicity? Will you be using our services?"

Scholar: "Mademoiselle Gong will help with all these; no need for you to trouble yourself."

Foreman: "What's your pen name?"

The scholar pondered for a moment.

For some reason, the first thing to flash across his mind was that mountain thirty leagues outside of town. When he was young and stupid, one time he drove a government official's horse carriage up the mountain, and became the joke of the town...

The scholar smiled lightly. "Just call me Mt. Qiuming's Driving God."

Foreman: "All righty."

One month later, one thousand books of sacrilegious smut rolled hot off the presses.

With its juicy drama, detailed love scenes, and a solid literary foundation, the scholar's zine sold like hotcakes. A thousand copies were snatched up in just a few days.

Nearly all of the Emperor/General fandom's fujoshi came to know of the grandmaster by the name of Mt. Qiuming's Driving God.

At two ounces of silver a book, minus the production costs, the scholar was loaded to his gills.

It was the first time he'd ever seen this much silver in his life.

And it wasn't even someone else's.

Holding the silver voucher, the scholar's hands trembled, tears gathering in his eyes.

Gong Zuoshi, having snuck out from her home again: "Aiya, what are you even doing with yourself. First print an additional three hundred copies for mail order, then hurry and write a new one while the iron's hot."

The scholar listened obediently. "Okay."

Gong Zuoshi: "This time we can commission some top-tier artists in the fandom to make a few illustrations, then add some merch on the side; it'll definitely be even more fire."

Blinded by greed, the scholar clasped his hands and bowed in the direction of the palace. "Very well, this time this one will write a few extra smut scenes for His Majesty."

Gong Zuoshi clapped her hands. "Yes yes, add a few rounds of kink-play."

The scholar bowed towards the palace and at the same time groveled, "All right, then this one will write a bondage scene for His Majesty and the High General of Zhennan."

Gong Zuoshi: "You can use white silk to do the tying."

Scholar: "Got it, in this book the general has a fiery and stubborn temper, and refuses to submit, so he tries to hang himself with white silk..."

The scholar paused, and made another bow toward the palace with hands clasped, then respectfully continued, "His Majesty arrives just in time to cut him down and save him."

Gong Zuoshi's eyes shone with giddiness. "Yes yes yes! And then a scene of unspeakable things!"

The scholar was flushed with excitement. "Okay okay, just like that!"

—The writer and co-conspirator unearthed their brain worms together.

Very soon, the scholar's second book was out of the oven.

Since this time there was no lack of funds, the copies were beautifully designed and bound with gold thread, with an add-on bonus of a potpourri pouch embroidered with the High General of Zhennan's nickname. Those who preorder one hour ahead of time can even receive an extra gift - a folding fan with a romantic verse scribed by the scholar himself.

This time the scholar's zine sold wildly, over four thousand copies. Within the fandom, the hungry readers waiting to be fed swarmed at the news - "Mt. Qiuming's Driving God has brought the smut train around! Everyone, get on board!"

This time, the scholar happened to publish his zine just in time for the doujin convention in town. Respected creators of various fandoms flocked to attend, each at their own booth, selling their zines and wares. Young ladies and housewives, baskets in hand, scooped up their favorite publications. Certain ladies of big-name households were even wearing veils over their faces, trailed by their own escort of guards, shopping from the east end of the convention to the west end - such a display of wealth!

Of course, the scholar who recently exploded in popularity became the focal point of the convention. The scholar's stand was one of the most mobbed, encircled in layers upon layers of fangirls.

"Train conductor, take me with you!"

"Grandmaster, I love you!"

"Beep—Swordswoman Card."

"Beep—Esteemed Lady Card."

"Beep—Nunnery Card."

"Beep—Grand Princess Card."

The scholar, who was busy signing autographs with a brush in hand: "..."

Hold on, was something not right about that last one!?

The scholar raised his head, and got an eyeful of a troop of fully-armed imperial guards.

The imperial guards were tightly clustered around a young woman.

The young woman looked around sixteen or seventeen years of age, beautiful and stately as a goddess descended from the heavens, bedecked in finery and jewels.

This was the sitting emperor's younger sister, the Grand Princess Difu.

Scared out of his wits, the scholar hurriedly prostrated into a kowtow. "This humble peasant greets Her Royal Highness."

The Grand Princess was not stuck up at all. Kindly she spoke, "Grandmaster, please rise."

Trembling, the scholar lifted himself, thinking he was about to be taken away to "have tea": "..."

The Grand Princess swept a glance over the scholar's stand, as if too lazy to look closely, and asked, "Whose fic are you writing?"

The scholar swallowed nervously, and tried to avoid the whole truth: "This peasant wrote about... the High General of Zhennan..."

The Grand Princess's eyes lit up slightly. "What'd you write about him?"

The scholar nearly fainted dead away. "This peasant wrote about... the High General's bravery on the battlefield, and his glorious appearance riding upon a galloping horse."

It was actually his glorious appearance lying on the bed, being ridden by the emperor!

But he can't say that!

Princess: "Is the general in a ship?"

The scholar's head shook like a rattle-drum. "No!"

The Grand Princess smirked. "Very well, then I will take a copy. Please pack up all the included merch."

The head of the imperial guard tossed two ounces of silver at the scholar. With a head full of cold sweat, the scholar wrapped up the book and merchandise.

A potpourri pouch, plus a folding fan hand-signed by the scholar.

Even though it's been two hours past the preorder period, and therefore should not include a bonus folding fan, but...

Not giving the Grand Princess a full set of merch - does he want to lose his head right there and then?!

Satisfied, the Grand Princess turned to other booths to collect more books.

Carrying bundles of books large and small, the imperial guards followed behind.

As soon as the Grand Princess left, the scholar closed up his stand and fled, discarding even the unsold books. He's already sold over four thousand copies anyway, there's not much left over.

Not only sacrilege, but deceiving the Grand Princess on top of that.

Returning home, the scholar scurried to gather his valuables, and at the same time imagined the scene after the Grand Princess returned to the palace—

Grand Princess: "O dear Royal Brother, someone wrote a fic about you and the High General of Zhennan, and they drove a smut train too."

Emperor: "..."

Grand Princess: "Hey Royal Brother, this person wrote that your Royal Pillar is a foot long, and normally wound around your waist..."

Emperor: "Someone, arrest this vile scoundrel, and off with his head!"

The scholar shook in a cold shudder, his own imagings nearly scaring the piss out of himself.

Having packed his things, the scholar wrote a small note, explaining the events today of how he met the Grand Princess at the convention and must flee for his life.

The scholar went to the Gong residence and passed the note to the servants, instructing them to make sure it landed in the hands of Mademoiselle Gong.

After sending his message, the scholar fled.

He fled all the way to Dali, which was renowned as "Shangri-la" for its scenery, as well as being very far from the Capitol city.

These days, all kinds of eloping princesses/princes/young masters and mademoiselles all loved to head to Dali.

It was a top destination for eloping.

Little did the scholar know, the day after his departure, the capitol city was completely locked down. The Anti-Obscenity Division of the imperial guard swarmed over all the notable publishing copy factories in search of the fugitive with the pen name "Mt. Qiuming's Driving God", but they returned empty-handed.

Having dodged this bullet, the scholar settled down in Dali.

After this scare, the scholar no longer dared to write fanfics anymore. But that was fine anyway, because he'd already earned plenty of silver from selling zines, and no longer needed to worry about how to make a living.

Now with money and time on his side, the scholar began remembering his old dream - to properly study, become valedictorian, and earn a high-ranking government position.

As mentioned before, Dali was a place that many people eloped to.

Including the previous imperial exam's valedictorian.

This valedictorian had a brilliant education, a solid family background, an elegant handsome face, and was the dream catch of thousands of young women. Supposedly, he shouldn't have had to do something like elope.

The problem was, the one who caught his eye was the Minister of Finance's son...

That's why he had to elope.

So the scholar requested the tutelage of the valedictorian.

From then on the scholar hit the books and burned the midnight oil every day, from "CliffsNotes" to "Princeton Review", from "The Annotated Classics" to "The Road to Valedictorian". It was long and arduous.

At last, two years passed.

Heaven rewards the diligent. In the new round of local exams, the scholar qualified to return to the Capitol for next spring's round of exams. In the series of qualifying exams he barged through all obstacles, achieved top ranking, and won eligibility to participate in the imperial exam.

The scholar was very excited.

The emperor was also very excited.

The day of the imperial exam.

Dozens of applicants were arranged in rows in the grand hall, each seated and writing at their own desk.

After the noon hour, the emperor personally attended the testing hall to survey the exam.

Having gone through two years of baptism by literary fire, the scholar had a speedy hand and a quick wit at his disposal. He was already pretty much finished, and was currently kneeling with his head bowed, resting his eyes.

Just then, the emperor walked up before the scholar, and paused, seemingly looking over the scholar's paper.

The scholar's heart thumped wildly.

After looking for a while, the emperor said, "Raise your head."

Unsure what was going on, the scholar very carefully, very slightly lifted his head.

Just then, a folding fan lightly landed upon the scholar's chin, and with an upward flick, the scholar was forced to raise his face and meet the emperor's gaze.

The emperor was indeed as handsome as the common rumors told, with blade-tipped brows and star-lit eyes, his face like crown jade.

The scholar was not bad looking either, with slightly wing-tipped almond eyes, flushed lips and bright teeth, and a thin waist.

The two stared at each other. For a moment, time seemed to stall, the great hall seemingly about to ring out with BGM at any minute.

The emperor gradually leaned down.

The scholar's palms were filled with nervous sweat.

The emperor's lips nearly brushed the scholar's ear, his voice ringing out low by the scholar's ear: "Beep—Emperor Card."

Scholar: "..."

I must've been hallucinating from nervousness.

The emperor straightened up, and opened the folding fan in his hand with a swish.

It was the merchandise the scholar had gifted the Crown Princess Difu two years ago, hand-scribed with the romantic verse written by the scholar himself. The handwriting was identical with the essay currently spread on the desk before the scholar.

The emperor's lip quirked ever so slightly.

A darkness fell over the scholar's eyes.

The scholar's lithe body swayed, and toppled over with a plonk.

The scholar woke to find himself lying upon the Royal Bed.

The reason he knew it was a Royal Bed as soon as he opened his eyes, was because the Royal Body was lying upon it—that is, by the scholar's side.

The emperor gazed steadily at the scholar.

The emperor's eyes were bottomless wells of black.

The scholar cleared his throat, shakily lifted the blankets, and knelt on the Royal Bed for three heavy kowtows, stuttering, "Greet, greet, greetings to Your Majesty!"

Each kowtow was accompanied by a stutter, very rhythmically.

The emperor wore an expression that may or may not be a smile. "Grandmaster, please rise."

The scholar nearly fainted again.

The emperor reached beneath the Royal Pillow and pulled out a booklet bound in gold thread, and asked leisurely word by word, "Mt. Qiuming's Driving God?"

The scholar wailed, "This peasant deserves a thousand deaths!"

Emperor: "Our Royal Pillar is a foot long, and usually wound around our waist?"

The scholar's tears twirled endlessly within his eye sockets. "It was all nonsense written by this peasant..."

The scholar's teary-eyed appearance was unexpectedly appealing. The emperor gave him an extra glance, quirked an eyebrow, and snatched the scholar's right hand.

The scholar's vision went black. "..."

I'm finished, His Majesty must be about to chop off my writing hand!

Then the next second, his hand, guided by the emperor, was pressed upon the Royal Pillar.

Scholar: "..."

Emperor: "Get a good feel."

His face beet red, the scholar took a tentative grope.

Emperor: "How long?"

Scholar, trembling: "Three inches."

Scholar: "No wait, it got a bit longer, four inches."

Scholar: "A, a bit more longer, five inches."

Scholar: "...It stopped. Five and a half inches."

Emperor: "From now on write five and a half inches. Strive for realism, understand?"

The scholar's head bobbed like a pecking chicken. "Understood."

Scholar: "May this peasant... be dismissed?"

Emperor: "We say you may."

The scholar breathed a sigh of relief, feeling like he gained back a life.

But then the emperor pointed at his five and a half inches, and said, "It says you may not."

Scholar: "..."

With a flip, the emperor pressed the scholar beneath his body.

And so, this life that the scholar just got back was nearly lost again on the Royal Bed.

After a ride on the Royal Train with the emperor, the scholar's world view was completely destroyed.

It's not that he was entirely unwilling.

After having written two whole books of m/m smut, the scholar had succeeded in un-straight-ing himself as well. Besides, the emperor was handsome and a skillful flirt, not even to mention his position of wealth. Being laid once by the emperor is not a bad deal, theoretically speaking.

But in the end the scholar was an academic, and felt this was too contrary to custom. His heart full of shame, he felt he had no dignity left to face his ancestors.

So, sobbing and blubbering, the scholar yanked three feet of white silk, and went to hang himself.

Halfway through his hanging, the emperor (who had been on the side watching the theatrics) casually strolled up, and cut down the scholar just like how it was written in the novel.

And then conveniently used those three feet of white silk to engage in a bit of bondage play.

The scholar, tied up like that in white silk: "..."

Not good, not good! This scene is a bit familiar!

Another hour passed.

The scholar sprawled limply across the Royal Bed like a broken puppet.

The emperor caught his breath, then stated, "Again."

The scholar was scared white, and rushed to guard his ass. "No, no, this peasant cannot withstand any more."

This train has been driven nearly to pieces by the emperor!

The Emperor sighed with heavy regret. "Then come back tomorrow."

Scholar: "If this peasant may dare ask..."

Emperor: "Mm?"

Scholar: "Why is Your Majesty so, so..."

Thirsty.

The emperor's eyes narrowed slightly. "You still have the nerve to ask?"

Scholar: "What?"

Emperor: "In your little book you wrote that Our Royal Pillar is a foot long, normally wrapped around the waist, causing the High General of Zhennan - who did not grimace even when cut open to the bone during surgery - to cry to the heavens, unable to leave his bed for half a month. And then your book became a bestseller, in addition to pirated copies circulating amidst the masses. In total some tens of thousands of copies have been spread far and wide."

The scholar's business mind took over, and silently calculated how much silver those ungrateful pirates stole from what should be rightfully his. His chest clenched painfully, more painful than even his ass.

If those tens of thousands of books had been sold rightfully, he could've even put himself on last year's List of Wealthiest Scholars if he wanted to!

The Emperor, gritting his teeth: "In all the cut-sleeve circles in the Capitol, no one dared to consort with Us, thus cursing Us to long lonely nights with only Our left and right hands for company."

The scholar's scalp burst with a layer of cold sweat, feeling as if he were finished.

Emperor: "We certainly cannot announce to the masses that We are actually a standard five and a half inches."

The scholar flashed upon the image of the emperor making this announcement to the masses. The corner of his mouth spasmed, nearly laughing aloud.

Emperor: "..."

The scholar hurriedly restored his face to an expression full of deep pain.

The emperor grasped the scholar's chin and turned him toward himself. "The Grand Princess said you were pretty good looking, so We wanted to see for Ourselves whether that was true."

Emperor: "If you were truly attractive, then We would have you, to vent Our heart's lust."

The scholar felt a retroactive fear. "And if it had been false?"

Emperor: "Then you'd be dragged out for fifty paddles, to vent Our heart's hatred."

Scholar: "..."

Either way his ass would be wrecked all the same.

Emperor: "From today on, you belong to Us. Stay with Us wholeheartedly, and We will ensure you win valedictorian."

In the imperial exam rankings, the emperor's opinion was very important.

The scholar felt a bit unfair. "In truth, this peasant had spent many years of hard work studying, with the guidance of a renowned instructor, and performed pretty well during this imperial exam; I had a pretty good shot to begin with..."

The emperor nodded. "Indeed, your answer was not bad. It was to Our liking."

The scholar's eyes lit up.

The emperor smiled with malice. "But if We do not allow you to win, then you can not win."

The scholar, tragically struck by a hidden rule: "..."

Emperor: "How about it?"

The scholar bowed his head and pondered, his hesitant expression gradually growing firm. After a moment, he jumped to his feet bare-assed, and stated, "This peasant fears he may not be able to obey."

The emperor furrowed his brow. "How so?"

Bare-assed, the scholar's face was resolute. "This peasant just remembered, Your Majesty had long ago wed the Chancellor's daughter as queen, and later also took the daughter of the High General of Weiwu as consort..."

The emperor's eyebrow quirked slightly.

Bare-assed, the scholar flicked a nonexistent sleeve, and cited with his head high, "If this peasant submits himself to Your Majesty in this situation, not only is it unfitting for custom, but it would be unfitting for morality."

His words concluded, the scholar climbed off the bed bare-assed, and searched for his clothes all over the floor.

The Emperor chuckled lightly. "You mean the Queen and Consort Jing?"

Continuing to bare-assedly look for his clothes, the scholar grumbled, "Correct."

The emperor bore a half-smile on his face. "Accompany Us to the rear palace, and you will understand."

The scholar declared, "This peasant has already made up his mind; I'm not going."

And so, the scrawny weakling scholar was hauled off by royal guards on his left and right to the rear palace.

The Emperor waved his hand, and the royal guards withdrew.

The Emperor led a mopey scholar in a few circles around the rear garden.

Turning a corner in a twisty corridor, the scholar caught the sight of two women pressed together.

The beautiful, haughty queen had the doe-like Consort Jing thrust against the wall.

Scholar: "..."

This must be the Queen having a jealous bout with Consort Jing!

The Emperor gave a light cough.

But neither the Queen nor Consort Jing seemed to hear, not even glancing in their direction.

The Queen tipped up Consort Jing's chin. "Little one, did We not feed you enough last night?"

Cheeks flushed red, Consort Jing shyly turned her head away.

Emperor: "..."

Scholar: "..."

And then, the Queen and Consort Jing resumed their PDA like no one was around, then went off hand-in-hand to fly kites.

Emperor: "Understand?"

Scholar: "...A little, perhaps."

Emperor: "The Queen and Consort Jing have felt this way for each other for a long time. The night before Our wedding, the Queen had originally planned to elope with Consort Jing to Dali."

Scholar: "..."

Dali again; why do you people have it out for Dali?

Emperor: "But the road is long and treacherous, and who knows how much hardship and danger two lone women would meet along the way. Furthermore, Consort Jing's constitution is frail from birth and may not withstand such turmoil, plus the Chancellor and the High General of Weiwu would be after them."

Emperor: "So We told the Queen that We were cut-sleeve, and they needed not escape. After a false wedding to Us, they could remain together long-term in the palace, and We would no longer be continuously urged to marry by the court. Everyone wins."

At the mention of being urged to marry, the emperor looked ready to cry tears of blood.

When members of the court bring up the topic of marriage, they will all do so in the format of a submitted petition, each petition bloated with tens of thousands of words, rambling from the ancestral customs to the kingdom's welfare, and then they'll kick up the dramatics to the point of threatening suicide, their power levels hundreds of times greater than a houseful of aunties gathered for the New Year.

Since it's been established from antiquity that the monarch cannot execute loyal advisors, the emperor is obliged to listen. He can only dream about dragging those old bones out the gate to be chopped a hundred times over.

The scholar came to a realization. "So then the reason Your Majesty has not sired children..."

The Emperor nodded. "We have never touched so much as a finger of theirs, and never will."

Emperor: "We prefer to touch you."

The scholar blushed red. "But if Your Majesty does not have heirs, you will still be urged by the court to do so all the same."

Emperor: "If We do not bear progeny, what of it?"

Scholar: "..."

In a flash the Emperor's countenance changed, his eyes glaring with authority. "All of you are so capable; come come come, you do the birthing, you come birth for Us."

The emperor's expression grew soft once more. "And then they dared not speak again."

Scholar: "Pfft."

A breeze swept past a flowering tree, as if tinted with a streak of soft light, and then right away, the fragrance-filled wind stole away between the two of them.

The two's eyes met for a long moment.

Using the folding fan signed by the scholar, the emperor gently lifted the scholar's chin, and asked softly, "So, are you willing or not?"

The scholar won valedictorian.

Having fulfilled the dream of both the scholar and eighteen generations of the scholar's ancestors, one could say he has honored his ancestors plenty.

From then on, the scholar began a life of attending court during the day, and being courted at night.

The emperor had a mischievous sense of humor. He ordered the scholar to revive the pen name Mt. Qiuming's Driving God, and return to his old work of writing fics.

But, this time the scholar only wrote for the ship of Emperor/newly ranked valedictorian, and none of it smutty; it was all fluff fic focused solely on romance.

The Emperor had a small shelf in his royal library, filled with the novellas written by the scholar.

Different subjects, different scenarios, but the main characters are always the Emperor and the scholar.

Emperor: "When We read these books of yours, it feels as if We had already spent many lifetimes with you."

The emperor was happy, but the Capital's fujoshi circle was full of wails and tears.

It's a disaster! The grandmaster has committed fandom adultery!

Changing ships was forgivable, but he didn't even write smut anymore. It was all fluff fic as pure as water.

The readers were all commenting they were going to die from blandness!

What they didn't know was, the grandmaster Mt. Qiuming's Driving God was still driving the smut train in private on the daily.

It's just that this train carried only the Emperor alone.

Whatever the Emperor wanted to read, the scholar wrote for His Majesty. And after the Emperor's done reading it, he'd put it into practice at night.

"Beep—Emperor Card."

[End]

Epilogue (F/M)

The Emperor arranged a marriage between the High General of Zhennan and the Grand Princess Difu.

He was as handsome as she was lovely, a well-matched couple.

But the Grand Princess was unwilling.

The emperor was puzzled. "The High General of Zhennan had already proved his worth on the battlefield at a young age. He's handsome and well-off, with land and status. Why, Dear Sister, are you unwilling?"

Princess: "I just feel like the High General of Zhennan trips my gaydar hard."

The High General of Zhennan was shocked. "Your Majesty! Your humble servant has been wronged!"

Emperor: "What gives you this impression, Dear Sister?"

Princess: "Maybe from a book I read."

Emperor: "...Could it be that one your brother-in-law wrote?"

The Grand Princess nodded.

Originally the Grand Princess had been fond of the handsome and mighty general...

But a shadow fell over her heart because of a zine!

The High General of Zhennan was as wronged as a blizzard in June. "Your humble servant is straight as a yardstick; I beg the Princess to verify!"

The Emperor waved his hand. "Your brother-in-law was writing nonsense. I've already disciplined him; no need to mention it further."

Later on, the High General of Zhennan spent a Herculean effort to pursue the Grand Princess. The Grand Princess finally agreed.

The two of them began a happy life together.

Aside from the Prince Consort always wanting to strangle his brother-in-law... everything was perfect.

End

#not mdzs #translation #chinese translation #humor #satire #short story #lu tiansu

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