The civil officials watched the silk burn into ash, none of them daring to reach in and save it.
Vice Minister Chen opened his mouth, but not a single word came out. He only felt that the heat from the brazier had suddenly become bone-chilling, even as his face burned with a stinging heat.
After a long silence, the Director of the Privy Council hissed through his teeth, “Arrogant!”
None of them would actually “report” this to Gu Huaiyu. They knew all too well that nothing in the Imperial City escaped the Chancellor’s ears.
***
When Pei Jingyi returned to his manor, Uncle Wu hurried out to meet him.
“General, Captain Jin just left. He said there was an urgent matter, but since you weren’t here, he couldn’t wait.”
Pei Jingyi led his horse into the courtyard. “That man… if you don’t ask him three times, he won’t spit out the point. I’ll deal with him later.”
As he moved toward the inner house, Uncle Wu lowered his voice. “Lord Nie from the Court of Judicial Review has been here since last night. He’s been waiting for you in the parlor.”
Pei Jingyi’s brow twitched. He could guess exactly why Nie Jin was here.
Nie Jin was dressed in his indigo official robes, every fold perfectly crisp. He clearly hadn’t even gone home last night, coming straight from his office at the Court of Judicial Review.
Hearing footsteps, he turned around. His eyes were cold and his tone was stiff. “Pei Du.”
Pei Jingyi slumped into a lounge chair, propping his boots up on the side table. “Uncle Wu, bring tea.”
Nie Jin ignored the hospitality. “Since when did the Chief Military Inspector become a personal guard for the Chancellor? My scouts reported seeing you riding behind Gu Yu’s sedan yesterday, looking for all the world like his dog—”
“Like your father!”
Pei Jingyi cut him off before he could finish. “You’re investigating me now?”
“I handle my cases without regard for personal ties,” Nie Jin replied, his voice remaining hard and flat. “Explain yourself. What is going on?”
Pei Jingyi raised an eyebrow. “I felt like it. What’s it to you?”
Nie Jin’s brow furrowed, clearly displeased with the attitude, but he managed to restrain his temper. After a moment of silence, he suddenly said, “Grand Preceptor Dong’s people delivered a stack of petitions to the Court of Judicial Review, accusing Gu Yu of—”
He stopped there, unable to reveal more confidential information.
Pei Jingyi’s gaze sharpened, his usual lazy expression tightening. “Accusing him of what?”
Nie Jin didn’t elaborate. “I haven’t touched that evidence yet. I don’t trust the Pure Stream, and I certainly don’t trust Gu’s faction. I only trust what I find myself.”
“As you should.”
A corner of Pei Jingyi’s mouth quirked up, his tone turning serious. “If Gu Huaiyu were that easy to topple, would the Court of Judicial Review even be needed?”
Nie Jin understood Gu Huaiyu’s methods better than most. Over the years, the case files he had pursued were written in blood, but they were ultimately just dead records.
He had never met Gu Huaiyu in person. Knowing a man from paper was one thing, but to truly bring someone down, one had to know the man and understand his nature.
He asked solemnly, “You’ve seen Gu Yu… what kind of person do you think he is?”
Pei Jingyi pressed his tongue against the side of his teeth, a half-smile playing on his lips. “What kind of person? A sickly cat with one foot in the grave. Thin-skinned, tender, and smells too good for his own sake.”
Nie Jin was not satisfied with the answer. His voice grew colder. “If that’s the case, why are you following him?”
“Doing my job,” Pei Jingyi answered truthfully.
“Do you take me for a three-year-old child?” Nie Jin sneered, his knuckles turning white as he gripped his sleeves. “I want the truth.”
Pei Jingyi dropped the smile and looked him dead in the eye. “The truth? I’ve fallen head over heels for Gu Huaiyu. I’m more than happy to be at his beck and call.”
Nie Jin frowned, contemplating this for a moment. His gaze was as steady as ice. “Is your relationship with Gu Yu… profound?”
“Very deep.”
Pei Jingyi looked down at his loosened collar—the one Gu Huaiyu had yanked open. He slowly and meticulously straightened it. “I’m going to take his life sooner or later. Can’t get much deeper than that, can it?”
Nie Jin went silent for a heartbeat, his voice turning ruthlessly cold. “His life doesn’t belong to you.”
“If my investigation proves Gu Yu’s guilt—if he should be detained, arrested, or executed—he will not escape.”
He looked directly into Pei Jingyi’s eyes with his usual rigid rectitude. “I don’t care what is between you two. But if it comes to that, don’t talk to me about friendship. If you stand in my way, I’ll arrest you right along with him.”
“You are the only person I would give this warning to,” Nie Jin concluded. As he turned to leave, his official robes flared with a sharp, decisive motion. “I am seeing this case against Gu Yu through to the end!”
Pei Jingyi narrowed his eyes at the retreating back and let out a sudden snort. “You don’t know shit. Wait until you’ve tasted his schemes for yourself…”
He suddenly found himself looking forward to seeing this “Iron-Faced Judge” get so riled up by Gu Huaiyu’s silver tongue that his veins started popping.
The thought actually improved his mood.
He kicked open the door to his inner chambers and snatched a purple belt from behind the weapon rack. It was embroidered with silver cranes and shimmered with light—the belt Gu Huaiyu had “rewarded” him with previously.
“Tch. This wouldn’t even work as a garter.”
He held it up against his waist. Sure enough, it was significantly too short. He couldn’t help but recall that day at the training grounds when Gu Huaiyu had removed the belt; that graceful waist had been so thin he could have snapped it with one hand.
“Fuck…”
Pei Jingyi’s Adam’s apple bobbed involuntarily. He suddenly hurled the belt onto the bed. What the hell am I thinking about?
