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The first time Shang Qinghua saw them, he was covered in dirt and straw, a shovel full of horse manure in his hands and his boots covered in muck.
The peerless nobleman in green barely glanced his way as he maneuvered his horse into a vacant stall, sitting with the proud elegance of a man who knew his worth and wouldn’t let any forget it.
A minute later, a tall, beautiful man in flowing black robes joined him.
“See to our horses,” the man he would come to know as Shen Jiu ordered absently, dismounting easily and deftly evading any piles of horse droppings Shange Qinghua had not yet managed to muck.
The second man, tall, handsome, and with a gentle smile, took the time to pass a coin to who he assumed the stableboy was.
Shang Qinghua was not, in fact, the stableboy. The child who was actually in charge of the stables was having a snack in the corner and watching with wide, astonished eyes.
No, Shang Qinghua was the fifth son of Lord Shang, who was a profitable scholar and advisor to the previous Emperor. Those familiar ties were being pulled to allow his father to attend the celebration of the current Emperor’s engagement, bringing his family with him in the hopes of introducing his youngest children to court.
The reason Shang Qinghua could so easily be mistaken for a simple stableman was that he was being punished by his mother.
“If you wish to roll around in the dirt like a common servant, then by all means, do so,” his mother had scolded. “You will see to our horses and tend to them properly until you have learned appreciation for the clothes your sister made.”
It really wasn’t his fault that he had been distracted by the noodle seller and then been robbed and dragged through an ally. His mother refused to hear any of it, however, since she and the rest of the family had already been at the inn while he wandered around the city in search of a bookseller.
She probably would have believed him, but it was too much effort to try and defend his dignity, so Shang Qinghua kept mute and allowed himself to be relegated to the stables.
Where he was now, watching two of the most gorgeous men he had ever seen swan into the inn his family was staying at.
He sighed wistfully as they vanished and then turned to the actual stableboy, who had turned back to his snack and was happily humming to himself.
He was only a little thing, probably no more than ten or eleven, with dirt smeared across his nose and chin.
“Do you know who they are?” he asked.
The child nodded, wiping his mouth with a grubby hand.
“Lord Yue and Lord Shen. They’re good to the horses,” the child answered.
Of course. Of course, two of the most powerful men besides the emperor would arrive when Shang Qinghua was covered in filth.
He could never show his face while they were here! The embarrassment would be too much, and his mother would never forgive him (even though it was her own doing).
Shang Qinghua sighed and returned to mucking. The stalls were big enough he should still be at it when the two lords left, unless they were staying the night.
*
Once he was finally finished, with the help of the stableboy, who he found out was named Hua Ming, he hastily made his way to the room he was sharing with his older brother. The room was empty when he arrived, and someone, probably his mother, had already had a bath prepared for him.
Hua Ming had been a chatty little thing, once he got over his nervousness of having a noble in his territory, and had shared the latest gossip with the ease of an old granny.
Lords Yue and Shen were a common sight around the inn, as they used it as a resting place before proceeding to the inner city and any business they had there. Both of their estates were further out in the country, a respectable distance that allowed them to remain part of court while maintaining their peace.
Shen Jiu, the brother to the emperor’s intended, was an especially common visitor since the announcement.
Yue Qingyuan, known for his prowess in battle and his steadfast loyalty to the empire, was one of the most decorated generals of his age. He was only, Shang Qinghua knew, a few years older than himself, barely twenty-five, and one of the most desired men in the land.
Shang Qinghua sighed as he scrubbed himself clean in the tepid water. The bruises from the thugs who had robbed him were starting to show in bright purple and dark blue on his pale skin. He winced as he soaped up the few scrapes they had left, thankful they had avoided his face. They had only wanted his money and not his life, so they didn’t waste more time than was needed to alleviate him of his coin pouch.
Once he was done in the bath, he made sure to take extra care with his robes. It wasn’t that he was usually untidy, but he also wasn’t a peacock like his brother, spending hours doing his hair and adding makeup to highlight his natural beauty.
No, Shang Qinghua knew he was handsome, in a scholarly kind of way. He was thin and in fairly good shape from his sword practice, his hair well kept and his nails trimmed. But he wasn’t into the silk robes his brother favored, or the highly embellished hair styles his sister enjoyed.
He was just him, fifth son of a wealthy man.
Oh, well. It wasn’t as though he expected either lord to notice him again if they met.
When he joined his family for dinner that evening, he drooped in relief to learn that the lords had already left.
The celebrations for the engagement would begin tomorrow, after all.
*
There were a lot of speeches. A lot.
By the end, even the emperor looked slightly dazed. His future wife sat beside him, eyes glazed in the way that meant he had checked out some time ago, and Lord Shen Jiu had a blank expression that Shang Qinghua would bet meant he was mentally tallying sheep instead of listening.
Beside Shen Jiu, on the emperor’s left side, stood Lord Yue Qingyuan; tall, elegant, and dressed in impeccable robes that emphasized his sturdy build and broad shoulders.
Unlike the others, his eyes were bright and alert, roaming the crowd of gathered nobles and officials.
Shang Qinghua and his family were relatively close to the front, due to his father’s previous position and his current friendship with the young Emperor. When Lord Yue’s eyes passed over them, he seemed to startle, gaze lingering on Shang Qinghua before moving on.
“What did you do?” Shang Ling asked once the last official had finished speaking, giving her older brother an accusatory look.
“Nothing!” he hissed back. “I was just standing here!”
“Hush!” their mother snapped from the corner of her mouth.
They both bowed their eyes and followed their father as they made their way to the grand feast, set in the Eastern courtyard to allow for privacy and security.
Lord Shang was a tall, stout man who enjoyed good food and better wine. His two wives flanked him on either side, and their children followed behind.
Shang Qinghua had inherited his mother’s height and found himself at a disadvantage to all the tall, imposing guests that seemed to come out of the woodwork.
What were they being fed, to get so tall? Shang Qinghua wondered.
He tried to pay them no mind as he took his seat, their table close enough to the emperor to be seen, but not so close to speak to him.
Shang Qinghua kept his head down and eyes focused on his hands. No beheadings for him thank you very much! He had had a brief glance of the emperor’s wife-to-be and that was more than enough to agree that he was indeed a beauty and the two would make a stunning pair.
Seated beside his older brother, Shang Ru, and his little sister Shang Ling, Shang Qinghua allowed himself to be distracted by the food slowly making its way out of the kitchens.
Their table groaned as platters and bowls were placed upon it, and he tried his best not to start drooling.
Everything smelled so good!
It took little effort or encouragement for him to eat his fill, praising each dish as he sampled it. His mother kept casting him fond, if exasperated, glances.
“Slow down,” she finally chided gently. “The food isn’t going anywhere.”
Shang Ling giggled at him, but seeing as she had her own mouth full, he didn’t take offense.
After even the most glutton-inclined guest had eaten their fill, entertainment was brought out in the form of dancers and musicians.
The young people being introduced to court life were encouraged to mingle, parents keeping a watchful eye for any shenanigans.
Shang Qinghua found himself by a beautiful little pond, filled with golden koi and a tiny waterfall that tinkled over artfully placed rocks.
“Hello,” a deep, smooth voice greeted from behind.
Shang Qinghua jumped and turned, eyes wide as he gazed at Lord Yue’s magnificent figure. He stumbled back, wincing as his foot settled on a lose rock, and resigned himself to making a complete fool of himself and his family in front of the entire court.
So long, potential husband! The food was great!
Strong arms captured him, winding around his waist and pressing him to a strong, patchouli scented chest. The material was silk and felt amazing against Shang Qinghua’s overheated cheek.
“I’m so terribly sorry,” Shang Qinghua gasped, even though it was Lord Yue who had surprised him.
“No, no, it was entirely my own fault,” Lord Yue immediately soothed.
Shang Qinghua could feel his voice rumble through the chest he was pressed against.
Lord Yue took a few steps back once he was certain Shang Qinghua had his footing again, his hand lingering on a shoulder.
“Hello,” Shang Qinghua finally greeted, once he was over his shock.
His cheeks still felt warm, blushed from embarrassment and one of the most handsome men he had ever seen saving him from public humiliation.
“How may this one be of service to Lord Yue?” he asked, remembering himself finally and bowing as courteously as he knew how.
“You were mucking the stable, yesterday,” Lord Yue said, keeping his voice low so as not to attract attention.
If Shang Qinghua had thought his cheeks couldn’t become redder, he quickly learned otherwise.
“Oh, yes,” he said awkwardly, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “I was being punished by my mother for ruining my robes. They were a present from my sister, and she was quite put out.”
A small smile tugged at Lord Yue’s lips.
“And what kind of mischief did you find for yourself, to ruin such a present?” he asked, his voice teasing.
Shang Qinghua wanted to bury his face in his hands.
“Um. Actually, I was robbed yesterday. I didn’t want my mother to worry.” He bit his lip, suddenly anxious. “Please don’t tell her.”
The smile fell from Lord Yue’s lips immediately, replaced by concern.
“Are you well? Did they hurt you?” he asked, as though he hadn’t seen Shang Qinghua perfectly capable of mucking a stall and wandering around the banquet.
“Only a few bruises, Lord Yue, I’m fine,” Shang Qinghua hastily assured.
The lord’s eyes remained on his face for a moment, seeking any hint of falsehood, then he relaxed minutely.
“In that case, may I have the name of the young man who I so thoughtlessly threw a coin at yesterday?” he asked.
If Shang Qinghu didn’t know any better, he would think he was flirting!
“This one is Shang Qinghua, fifth son to Shang Zhiyu,” he replied shyly.
“Shang Qinghua,” Lord Yue repeated softly. “I’m very happy to have seen you during the speeches.”
He didn’t know how to respond to that, so Shang Qinghua bowed his head, feeling his cheeks heat again.
“Qingyuan,” a voice called, turning Lord Yue’s head and giving Shang Qinghua moment to gather himself.
The man in dark green, Lord Shen Jiu, approached them, accompanied by his husband, the peerless beauty, Lord Liu Qingge.
Both eyed Shang Qinghua suspiciously.
“Lord Shen, Lord Liu,” Yue Qingyuan greeted, humor creeping back into his voice. “This is the fifth son of imperial advisor Shang Zhiyu, Shang Qinghua.”
Lord Shen eyed him dubiously, snapping his fan open and using it to cover the lower half of his face.
“Weren’t you mucking stalls yesterday?” he asked.
How were they both so good at remembering?
“Yes, Lord Shen. A punishment, from my mother,” Shang Qinghua explained.
Lord Liu’s face didn’t change, but Shang Qinghua knew he was laughing at him.
“The emperor has requested we join him,” Lord Shen said abruptly, turning his attention back to Yue Qingyuan. “Come along.”
He turned to leave, clearly expecting the others to follow. Liu Qingge was kind enough to give Shang Qinghua a nod of his head as he followed his husband, but Lord Yue remained a moment longer.
“I am sorry to cut our introduction so short. I hope to be able to speak to you again,” he said, so sincere Shang Qinghua couldn’t doubt he meant it.
“I hope for that as well, Lord Yue,” he agreed.
He watched as the tall man left, parting the tide of guests like a wave.
*
The party lasted well into the night and the early morning hours, but Shang Qinghua did not see Lord Yue again.
When he finally settled for bed, back at the inn where his family had stayed the day before, he felt as though he had surely dreamed such an encounter.
Still, the remembered fragrance of patchouli hung in his mind, as did the strength of strong arms and a solid chest.
When the family set out the next day, everyone still a little groggy from the celebration, he sighed in his heart and firmly put the memories to the back of his mind, where he could daydream about them later.
Days passed, and the experience continued to seem more dream than reality, but his sister had acquired a suitor, and Shang Qinghua himself had seemingly caught the eye of someone at the banquet, as a letter arrived nearly a week after they had returned home with his name as the subject.
It was a thick scroll, bound with heavy black ribbon and sealed, though Shang Qinghua had not been able to tell by whom before it was whisked away to his father’s study.
“Maybe both of us will come out of this with a husband,” Shang Ling giggled to him from where she was practicing her embroidery in the sunny pavilion of their courtyard.
“Who would want me?” Shang Qinghua asked, honestly perplexed.
His sister rolled her eyes at him but didn’t comment.
That night, he was called into his father’s office, not a rare occurrence but not something he had been expecting.
His studies were going well, he hadn’t got into any trouble since the day they arrived at the inn, and he hadn’t even teased his sister, for all that she was annoying.
When he entered, his father was sitting behind his desk, his mother standing at his shoulder, smiling.
“Hello, Father, Mother,” he greeted, bowing to them both.
“Sit,” his father ordered, but he sounded pleased, so Shang Qinhua sat. “A betrothal request has arrived.” He indicated the scroll Shang Qinghua had seen earlier, the black ribbon undone and the beautiful cursive revealed. “It is a good match, and your mother and I think you should accept.”
Shang Qinghua blinked, completely taken by surprise.
“A betrothal request?” he repeated. “For me?”
“Apparently, you made quite the impression on Lord Yue,” his mother said proudly. “He has made a generous offer, and has the emperor’s blessing.”
They waited for him to speak, but Shang Qinghua was too stunned.
“Lord Yue?” he finally managed to croak out.
“Indeed,” his father agreed, letting out a little incredulous laugh of his own. “He states, and I quote, “your son is of an incomparable quality that is rarely seen in the world these days. I knew the moment I saw him, standing in front of the koi pond, I would find no other.””
“I was just… I nearly fell in,” Shang Qinghua admitted before he could stop himself.
“Of course you did,” his mother sighed. “But whatever the case, he seems to be sincere. I would not take too long to think over his proposition.”
Shang Qinghua nodded dumbly, leaving his parents as he was dismissed, and made his way back to his room.
It wasn’t really a question of if he would accept, of course. Lord Yue Qingyuan was powerful, wealthy, incredibly handsome, strong, muscular…
And he smelled amazing. Just the thought of being allowed to inhale his scent was enough to make Shang Qinghua blush.
Oh, goodness, he was going to get married!
He found himself smiling, wanting to dance around like a child in excitement. Instead, he sought out his sister instead.
“Shang Ling!” he called as he entered the library, finding her bent over a book.
She looked up at him curiously.
“Will you teach me how to embroider?” he asked, plopping himself down opposite her.
Her eyebrows raised in surprise.
“Of course. But why?” she asked.
“Because I’m going to get married!”
Their squeals were heard throughout most of the manor.