They had anticipated Gu Huaiyu would be fly into a rage, or perhaps try to argue his way out. They never expected that this man, who held the power of the entire court, would simply treat them as if they didn’t exist.
One scholar burst into wild laughter. “Do you see, everyone? This is the Chancellor of our Great Chen! He has a guilty conscience! He doesn’t even have the courage to face us!”
The crowd erupted in a frenzy.
Another scholar, his face flushed red, hurled his book at the departing carriage. “Shameless scoundrel!”
Only Xie Shaoling’s gaze remained complex as he watched the grand carriage retreat.
This was entirely different from the reaction he had imagined. There was no rage, no shame—only a sense of effortless composure.
As the sound of hooves faded, Pei Jingyi didn’t follow immediately.
He pulled his reins, turning his horse in a circle as his playful gaze swept over the still-shouting scholars.
These bookworms thought they had gained the upper hand, but they didn’t realize—if a sick cat had no hidden moves, would he really let things end so easily?
***
In front of the Chancellery, the officials of the Gu Faction had long been waiting under the eaves.
As soon as they saw Gu Huaiyu’s procession, the officials smoothed their sleeves and straightened their caps, making sure they looked perfectly presentable.
Someone in the faction had already recognized Pei Jingyi.
This was the man depicted in tea house stories as the “Iron-Blooded General” who could kill a man in ten steps. Rumor had it that the arrogant Eastern Liao army would flee in terror the moment they saw the “Pei” military flag raised.
Pei Jingyi dismounted and stood by the carriage wheel, not moving an inch.
The carriage curtain shifted slightly. Gu Huaiyu gave him a weary, lazy look.
Pei Jingyi stared at him with unbridled scrutiny, ignoring the implicit command.
It wasn’t until Gu Huaiyu extended a single finger and beckoned to him.
The gesture was exactly like a master calling a dog.
The surrounding officials practically held their breath.
Pei Jingyi cursed him in his head, but he nonetheless bent his knee and knelt down. “Lord Chancellor, please.”
Who didn’t know the story of “The General Who Leveled Mount Wu with Three Arrows”?
He was a true hero in folk legends, a God of War descended to the mortal realm in the eyes of the people. The arrogant civil officials in court had secretly sent countless invitations trying to win him over.
This soldier never gave anyone face; he had even dared to skip Grand Preceptor Dong’s birthday banquet. Yet, such a formidable figure was now kneeling before the Lord Chancellor’s carriage, willingly lowering his head.
When Gu Huaiyu stepped onto Pei Jingyi’s knee, the expressions of the Gu Faction officials were a sight to behold. They weren’t just shocked that the general was kneeling; they were stunned that the Chancellor could tame such a tiger into a stepping stool.
The shock on their faces was fleeting, replaced by a surge of irrepressible excitement.
Even Grand Preceptor Dong couldn’t recruit this man, yet today he bowed before the Chancellor?
What did that prove?
In the end, the Chancellor was the superior one. They had followed the right man—that was the only thought in their minds.
Shen Jun stood in the center of the crowd. Today, he had changed into a new official robe that made him look even more elegant and handsome, but his hands were clenched tightly inside his sleeves.
Anyone with eyes could see the tension between Gu Huaiyu and Pei Jingyi.
The muscles in Pei Jingyi’s body were taut, yet he never pulled away from the foot pressing down on his knee.
Even more eyesearing was the fact that as Gu Huaiyu stepped on his knee, the legendary iron-blooded general instinctively raised a hand to steady him, as if afraid he might fall.
“My greetings to the Lord Chancellor.”
As soon as Gu Huaiyu’s foot hit the ground, Shen Jun stepped forward, presenting a pre-prepared hand-warmer.
Gu Huaiyu arched an eyebrow in surprise. He took the warm heater and asked as he walked forward, “How are the matters proceeding?”
Shen Jun followed half a step behind him. “According to your instructions, half of the rooms in the city’s temples and monasteries have been cleared out. The cotton has been sent to the Imperial Weaving Workshop, and I have ordered the workers to manufacture winter clothes overnight…”
Gu Huaiyu nodded slightly. Seeing Shen Jun pause, he asked, “And the tax reduction?”
“Minister Cui claims this matter requires the Lord Chancellor to visit the Ministry of Revenue in person.”
As Shen Jun spoke, a sudden clang echoed. He shot a glare toward the sound.
Civil officials usually entered the palace by carriage or sedan; there were no hitching posts in front of the Chancellery. Pei Jingyi had actually tied his horse to the stone stele beneath the archway.
That was the stele engraved with the names of all the Chancellors of Great Chen, established by the Founding Emperor himself. It had stood there in glory for two hundred years.
In the past, when Shen Jun saw military officers lack decorum, he was usually magnanimous. As the Director of the Secretariat, why would he bother with a mere soldier?
But at this moment, what churned in his chest was a sharper, inexplicable emotion.
“Ignore him,” Gu Huaiyu said, stopping under the veranda. “You don’t need to worry about the commercial tax reduction anymore. I will handle it personally.”
Shen Jun bowed with a shallow smile. “The Chancellor works hard.”
Gu Huaiyu entered the Chancellery. Before he could even sit, Shen Jun hurried forward to spread a brocade cushion over the red sandalwood chair, doing so with meticulous care.
The memorials on the desk were already sorted by the color of their ink. Shen Jun offered a celadon teacup, the rim perfectly warm, and his voice was equally gentle. “The Imperial Physician added fritillaria and loquat to moisten the lungs and stop your cough. Please try it, Chancellor.”
This diligent and thoughtful manner was worlds apart from the usually cautious, solemn, and humorless Director of the Secretariat.
Gu Huaiyu’s eyes darkened. Something is wrong.
Shen Jun leaned down to set the tea before him, asking nonchalantly, “Why is General Pei following the Lord Chancellor?”
Gu Huaiyu glanced toward Pei Jingyi. The General was leaning against a pillar in the corridor with his arms crossed. Hearing the question, his lips curled into a playful arc, waiting to see how this powerful Chancellor would explain his presence.
“General Pei…”
Gu Huaiyu said casually, “He admires my talent. A few days ago, he knelt in my bedchamber and begged me relentlessly to let him be my man.”
The smile on Pei Jingyi’s face froze for a split second. He slowly narrowed his eyes.
Technically, that wasn’t a lie.
