Xiao Zai stared in dumbstruck silence at Chu Yun, who looked at him in subdued anticipation, as if he wouldn’t be fazed either way no matter what Xiao Zai said.

Finally, Xiao Zai chuckled bitterly and shook his head. “Unfortunately no, I’m his son.”

That surprised Chu Yun, who raised a sharp eyebrow. “That’s a first. I don’t think I’ve heard anyone regret not being a bastard. Zui sure is different.”

How could Xiao Zai even begin to explain all those nights he spent as a small child, hidden in a cupboard in his dam’s room, watching from behind the half-open doors in horror as his father beat and humiliated Gu Wei. How to explain his fevered wishes that he had a better, kinder father somewhere, who would one day come and rescue him and his dam from their torment.

He’d imagined that man so much that he could almost see his face, handsome, regal and dignified, kind, nurturing and attentive. Xiao Zai had imagined a life for the three of them away from the palace and its treachery, somewhere remote and surrounded by greenery where his dam and sire would play with him outside, and hold each other tenderly while looking out in pride at his childish adventures.

That reality never came to pass, his dam-father always reminded him, sometimes sadly, sometimes bitterly, just who was the man who had sired him.

“Never forget who your father is,” Gu Wei had said, one day when Xiao Zai was helping him apply medicine to his split lip. “He owes you a throne.”

Xiao Zai had always kept those words at the forefront of his mind. The king owed him a throne, and he owed his dam the life that was stolen from him, he owed him for every beating he had taken in Xiao Zai’s place, for all the ugly words he had heard.

Now, he looked into Chu Yun’s keen fox eyes and echoed those same words. “My father owes me a throne.”

Chu Yun drummed his fingers against the tabletop. “So that’s why he married you to me.”

“Maybe,” Xiao Zai said. It was the logical explanation but he couldn’t help feeling there was a bigger plan to all of it, that he couldn’t quite see.

And why would he? Unlike Chu Yun he wasn’t a strategist, his father didn’t even allow him to be a soldier. All his training had to be done in secret with a retired martial arts master.

Chu Yun on the other hand was considering all his options.

He kept picking at his food while observing Xiao Zai in silence. His new husband puzzled him. He had the bearings of a prince, from his straight back to the haughty tilt of his chin, but there was something gritty about him, as if he had to trudge through the mud to lift himself up — an existence in every way opposite to Chu Yun’s who had known nothing but unconditional love from his parents.

Xiao Zai’s position in the court was so unsteady that it wouldn’t be hard for Chu Yun to find a reason to return to Xin — maybe the king was even counting on that, as a last definite blow to Xiao Zai’s credibility. So, if he was willing to wait, maybe Chu Yun could return to Xin in a couple of years and try to forget that this terrible marriage had ever happened.

Or…he could stay and be a kingmaker.

He could make sure that the next king of Zui acted in accordance with Xin interests. He had no ambition of being king himself, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have his people’s best interests at heart.

If the next king of Zui was indebted to him, what kind of trade deals he would be able to negotiate?

Xiao Zai gave him a weary look. “Why are you smiling to yourself like that?”

Chu Yun schooled his features back into neutrality and cleared his throat. “Naturally, as your husband, I’ll support you in all your endeavours.”

“My endeavours?” Xiao Zai asked, his brows creased in disbelief. “Even if say…those endeavours include violent seizure of the throne?”

Chu Yun shrugged. “You can’t expect me to care about whose ass sat sits on the Zui throne. Might as well be the ass I’m married to.”

Xiao Zai was still suspicious of Chu Yun’s sudden good nature. He hadn’t forgotten that they started this conversation with Chu Yun calling him a bastard.

“And what do you gain from that?”

He shrugged again. “A better palace, for starters,” Chu Yun said, and left it to Xiao Ziao to make of that what he willed.

Their food had long gone cold and Chu Yun rose up to call a servant to clear the table.

“You can sleep in here, I’ll find some other room for tonight,” Chu Yun said, already at the door.

Xiao Zai tensed. “We can sleep together. I won’t do…anything.”

Chu Yun had to smirk at Xiao Zai’s stilted words. He was talking as if Chu Yun was an unmarried virgin whose chastity was under threat by his mere presence and needed immediate reassurance.

“Maybe you should worry about yourself,” he said, stopping at the doorway to smile at Xiao Zai from above his shoulder. “I can look after myself.” He flashed his canine teeth and unfurled his ears and tails, letting them fan behind him like a warning. “I have nine little helpers to keep any grabby hands away. What do you have?”

He left before Xiao Zai had the time to think of an answer.

—

In the morning Chu Yun woke up alone in a divan bed in an airy room overlooking the back courtyard. He lazed around in bed, appreciating the chirping of the birds outside his oiled paper window, when a familiar fast knock sounded outside the door.

He told Hua Nanyi to enter. She stepped inside the room gingerly, her pretty face unsure of what expression it wanted to settle into.

“Uh, just to let you know, your father-in-law is here, and, uh, he brought a kitten with him?”