Ye Hua
“There you are, Crown Prince. Shifu has been waiting for you,” said Wang Xiao, Mo Yuan’s fifth disciple, greeting Ye Hua with his usual smooth charm. Wang Xiao, despite his angelic looks, was notorious — a ruthless card player who favored flirtatious and morally flexible goddesses.
Ye Hua nodded, a habitual gesture of acknowledgment, and made his way toward his brother’s chamber. Kunlun Mountain had long since become his second home, a place of reverence and discipline, but also one where his role as Mo Yuan’s younger twin was constantly redefined.
Despite the vast difference of several hundred thousand years between them, their bond as brothers was unshakable. Mo Yuan shifted easily between being a brother, a father, or sometimes a bully. Tonight, he had clearly assumed the role of the bully, summoning Ye Hua in the middle of the night.
Ye Hua’s discontent was obvious. He tugged irritably at the folds of his black cloak, his face clouded like a brewing storm. Throwing back his shoulders, he stomped into his brother’s chamber and knelt. They had long dispensed with formal courtesies, yet habit lingered.
Instead of his customary calm, Mo Yuan wore an uncharacteristically cheesy grin, so wide it curled his mustache at odd angles. The sight was unsettling, enough to make Ye Hua want to bolt.
“Didi, I need your help,” Mo Yuan said with false sweetness.
Ye Hua spat out his answer at once. “No!” He recognized the look, the grin, the late-night summons. This was a trap.
The chamber fell silent. Both brothers stared at one another, locked in an age-old contest. Their infamous staring duels had once lasted three entire days before mutual dry eyes forced surrender. Tonight, Ye Hua might have lasted just as long if not for the gnat that landed on his nose and darted toward his eyes.
He blinked.
Mo Yuan’s grin widened with smug satisfaction. “I win. Therefore, you are at my command.” He brandished a regal scroll and, with the gravity of an emperor, continued: “I’ve gotten myself into a predicament, and you must help me.”
Ye Hua’s patience wore thin. He waved his hand impatiently. “Out with it, before I lose interest entirely.”
Mo Yuan set down the scroll and steepled his fingers. “I have a pre-marital meeting with a young woman. I would like you to impersonate me.”
Ye Hua’s eyes narrowed. “Absolutely not.”
Mo Yuan ignored him and continued. “She’s from Qingqiu. Her father is my friend. I couldn’t reject her rudely. All I ask is that you dress like me, go in my place, and politely tell her I’m not interested. That’s all.”
Ye Hua clenched his jaw. “The last time I pretended to be you, it ended in disaster.”
Mo Yuan raised three fingers solemnly, the gesture as ridiculous as his oath. “Help your dege out. I ask so little of you.”
Then, with perfect timing, came the dreaded Lotus guilt trip. His voice softened, nostalgic. “Ye Hua, I cared for you in my pond for hundreds of thousands of years. My only concern was the freezing of your delicate petals. I used my hands as a wide umbrella to shield you, enduring the cold, the snow, even frostbite.”
Ye Hua sighed, reciting the lines he’d heard countless times. “And you protected me from bugs.”
Mo Yuan nodded gravely, right hand snapping like tiny mandibles, left hand swatting them away.
Ye Hua rubbed his temple. “Have you even seen her? What if she’s ugly? Giant buck teeth? A mustache larger than yours?”
Mo Yuan chuckled, clearly delighted to have escaped the burden himself. “She’s a Nine-tailed Fox. Her mother is a renowned beauty. You and she are closer in age. You’ll relate to her better than I could. I don’t expect you to marry Bai Qian — only to meet her once. Wear my blue robe. I always look devastatingly handsome in blue. Bring orchids. Women adore orchids.”
Ye Hua’s cheeks puffed in frustration. He exhaled sharply, snatched the scroll, and shoved it into his sleeve. “This will blow up in my face. You owe me, dege. I won’t forget this.”
Mo Yuan waved him off, nonchalant. “Tomorrow at noon. And Ye Hua—don’t forget the orchids.”
Spring unfurled gently across the Mortal Realm. Sunlight filtered through willow branches as Ye Hua approached the teahouse where the meeting was arranged.
The location was unusual — a humble teahouse for the daughter of the Fox Emperor and the Master of Kunlun. But its simplicity promised privacy, and for that Ye Hua was grateful. If anyone saw him with Bai Qian while dressed as Mo Yuan, scandal would ignite like wildfire.
Dressed in Mo Yuan’s cerulean robe, Ye Hua had dutifully conjured the signature mustache and beard. But instead of orchids, he plucked weeds from the roadside and carried them in as if they were priceless blossoms.
The moment he entered, chaos rippled through the room. Cups overflowed, trays clattered, women gawked shamelessly. His beauty had that effect.
He sat, allowing Bai Qian to come to him. The tea shop owner’s daughter trembled so violently when she set his tea down that he turned his face aside. Best not to risk her fainting from a full view.
“Noon sharp,” he muttered. Bai Qian was one minute late. Strike one.
When a young man slid into the seat opposite him, Ye Hua frowned. “I’m expecting a guest. Please leave.”
The stranger ignored him, pouring himself tea. Bai Qian was now three minutes late. Strike two.
Then the stranger spoke. “High God Mo Yuan?”
Ye Hua blinked.
The man smiled, unbothered. “I’m Bai Qian. Forgive the spell, but my brothers enjoy laughing at my expense. Last blind date, they failed to mention the suitor cross-dressed — beard and all. I know you spent all you time with men, so I thought you might prefer…nevermind”
Ye Hua snorted, unable to stop himself. The Fox Princess thought Mo Yuan was… oh, he could not wait to tell his brother.
With a flick of her hand, the young man shimmered into a beautiful woman. Bai Qian smiled serenely, lifting her cup. “Better? Though I’ll admit, sitting as a man was awkward. The bulge made it impossible to cross my legs.”
Ye Hua, too tired to filter, said flatly: “Why not reduce the size?”
Her laugh rang like bells. “Because if I’m going to be a man, I should have an enormous, remarkable… sword. Wouldn’t you, if you were a woman? Large breasts? A peachy bum?”
He blurted without thought, “Of course—” and then froze. “What nonsense am I saying?”
Desperate to recover, he straightened into Mo Yuan’s best imitation of dignity. “So. You are the Fox Emperor’s daughter.”
“And you are Heavenly Father’s son,” she replied smoothly.
They regarded each other in solemn silence before both nodded, absurdly formal.
Bai Qian’s eyes fell to the weeds on the table. She lifted them delicately, inhaling. “Wildflowers. My favorite.”
Ye Hua squinted. Simple-minded? Or charmingly odd?
He tried conversation. “You have older brothers?”
“Four. And you have a younger brother, Crown Prince Ye Hua, do you not?”
Finally, a topic worth discussing. Himself.
With pride, Ye Hua launched into praise of Ye Hua: unmatched intelligence, flawless diplomacy, more dazzling even than Mo Yuan. Bai Qian listened, entranced, her eyes alight.
“I can’t imagine anyone more handsome than you,” she murmured, cheeks flushed. She leaned closer. “Would you meet me again? I… like you.”
Ye Hua faltered. He had done nothing charming. Poor girl — another doomed heart, chasing Mo Yuan’s shadow.
He steeled himself. “Please don’t take it personally. I’m not interested in marriage.”
“Then friendship?” she asked softly.
“You seem very nice, and I’m flattered. But I’m too busy. Too many titles, too many duties. Please give my regards to your father.” He rose, bowing slightly. “Goodbye.”
Her voice pitched high, incredulous. “Goodbye!? Already!? The wine bottle’s still full!”
Ye Hua walked out without a backward glance.