Chapter 23: Kneel Part 2

Gu Huaiyu finally looked up. He used his other foot to give Pei Jingyi a light, dismissive kick to the chest. “Socks.”

Pei Jingyi looked at the low stool beside the divan. Sure enough, a pair of plain white silk socks were folded there, the cuffs embroidered with a subtle crane-feather pattern.

“The Lord Chancellor is truly extravagant.”

He supported the sole of Gu Huaiyu’s foot with his broad palm. His thumb uncontrollably rubbed against the ankle bone twice; the bone protruded just the right amount, and the skin felt cool to the touch. “A single pair of socks is worth a month of my salary.”

A fifth-rank military officer’s monthly stipend was only twenty taels of silver.

These socks, made of Ice Silkworm Silk—a tribute from Yun Province—were worth a hundred taels.

Gu Huaiyu felt a slight sting from the rough friction of the General’s fingertips. He suddenly exerted force with his toes, grinding them harshly against Pei Jingyi’s knee. “General Pei’s hands seem quite practiced at serving others.”

Pei Jingyi felt a scratchiness in his throat. He looked up. “I practiced them myself. After all, in the army camps, there are no bed-warmers. I have to look after myself.”

Gu Huaiyu was truly impressed by the man’s ability to spout nonsense. He tossed the latest paper slip into the fire. “Why does the General constantly try to provoke me? Could it be—”

“That you think I cannot touch you before I have secured control of the military?”

“The Chancellor misunderstands.”

Pei Jingyi chuckled, his fingers hooking the edge of the sock as he slowly slid it over the jade-like foot. “I was simply born this irritating.”

Gu Huaiyu’s eyes remained cold as he picked up another report. “General Pei also misunderstands. I want you alive, but the manner in which you live is entirely up to me.”

After a short pause, his gaze fell on Pei Jingyi’s face. “Severing your hamstrings and tendons, crushing your lumbar vertebrae, and finally turning you into a ‘human pig’ for my amusement—that also counts as being alive.”

Pei Jingyi unhurriedly finished putting on the boots, a rogue-like smile playing on his lips. “Then the Chancellor had better prepare a large vat.”

As he tightened the silk laces, he intentionally yanked them hard, eliciting a nearly imperceptible hiss of pain. “After all, given my stature, I won’t fit into any ordinary-sized container.”

He emphasized the word “size” with deliberate weight.

Gu Huaiyu let out a dismissive scoff. He tapped Pei Jingyi’s cheek with a thin piece of paper. “I kept you by my side for a reason, and it wasn’t to listen to your filth.”

Pei Jingyi took a single glance at the paper, and his pupils suddenly constricted.

“Zhao Su, Vice General of the Northern Frontier Army, privately mobilized three thousand light cavalry to cross the border without reporting to the Ministry of War. He launched an unauthorized raid on an Eastern Liao merchant caravan.”

Defying military orders.

This single line was enough to cost Zhao Su his head.

Zhao Su was a veteran general who had served under Pei Jingyi’s father for twenty years. He had a fiery temper and hated the Eastern Liao people for raiding border civilians more than anything.

This unauthorized excursion was likely because he had witnessed Eastern Liao soldiers bullying the citizens of the Chen Dynasty again and couldn’t restrain himself.

After a long silence, Pei Jingyi took the paper and looked up at Gu Huaiyu. “How does the Chancellor intend to handle this?”

Gu Huaiyu tilted his chin up slightly. “Burn it.”

Pei Jingyi was stunned.

A smirk played on Gu Huaiyu’s lips. “What? Doesn’t the General love burning things?”

What is he playing at?

Pei Jingyi’s eyes darkened as he tossed the paper into the charcoal brazier.

The flames reflected off his cold, sharp profile, flickering unevenly.

With a single word, Gu Huaiyu could suppress the Zhao Su incident, or he could have Zhao Su’s head roll.

And now, he was choosing to let Pei Jingyi burn the evidence with his own hands.

Gu Huaiyu nodded slightly. “Excellent.”

He reached out, pulled another slip from the box, and handed it over. “Continue.”

Pei Jingyi unfolded the second slip, and his face gradually sank.

“Former subordinates of the Pei family have hidden armor in private warehouses without surrendering them to the Imperial Court. Twelve people are involved. Suspected of treasonous intent.”

This was even more severe than Zhao Su’s mistake.

If pursued, it was enough to have entire families executed to the last generation.

He looked up again, his voice stripped of its earlier flippancy. He asked with grim seriousness, “What is the meaning of this, Lord Chancellor?”

Gu Huaiyu leaned back against the divan, his finger lightly tapping the wooden box. “I told you to look. I told you to burn. I did not tell you to ask questions.”

Pei Jingyi’s jaw tightened, his knuckles turning white from the force of his grip. Ultimately, he threw this slip into the brazier as well.

The fire flared up as the paper curled and turned black, crumbling into ash.

Only then did Gu Huaiyu speak softly. “The Court’s attitude toward the border armies has always been thus: they want the horse to run, but they don’t want to give it any grass.”

His finger continued its rhythmic tapping. His voice was lazy. “The Northern Frontier Army has guarded the borders for ten years. Every year, your equipment and rations are embezzled, yet they expect you to strictly follow military law—”

A trace of mockery flashed in Gu Huaiyu’s eyes. “And now they want to make an issue out of a few sets of old armor. They truly are getting more pathetic as time goes by.”