Shen Jun’s hands, hidden beneath his sleeves, clenched into white-knuckled fists. Yet he remained prostrated as straight as a pine tree. A suppressed gasp escaped his throat. “This official… thinks of the moon in the sky.”
The pulsing vein behind his ear throbbed against Gu Huaiyu’s fingertip. Gu Huaiyu felt very satisfied with this “terror.”
His hand traced down to touch the earlobe, but as soon as he felt the scorching, sweat-slicked skin, he immediately withdrew.
Gu Huaiyu nonchalantly wiped his finger and stood straight, letting out a sudden laugh. “The moon in the sky? How boring. You certainly have unique tastes.”
Shen Jun closed his eyes. His throat was so parched he felt like a man dying of thirst. “It is not that unique. There are many like me, though Your Excellency has simply never noticed them.”
Gu Huaiyu had lost interest in the interrogation. After circling the subject, it seemed that aside from Pei Jingyi, who was bold enough to harbor designs on him, others didn’t dare share the thought.
He sat back behind his desk and picked up a memorial, lowering his head to focus on his work. “You may leave.”
“This official takes his leave.”
Shen Jun bowed low. His voice was so raspy it was barely recognizable.
As his official robes trailed across the floor, they happened to cover a small, nearly imperceptible damp spot on the carpet.
As he retreated, the soles of his boots stepped over the place where he had been kneeling, grinding that trace of moisture deep into the shadows.
Gu Huaiyu never looked up from his scrolls, and so he never saw that unusual damp patch.
***
A few days later, at the Chancellery.
The murder of the Eastern Liao envoy had caused a massive stir throughout the city. Countless “culprits” had come forward to confess, yet the Court of Judicial Review had not closed the case.
They neither exerted full effort to find the real killer nor allowed the Eastern Liao delegation to take matters into their own hands against the commoners. The matter was simply dragged out, clearly intended to be minimized until it vanished.
Now, Yelü Chi had come in person, requesting an audience with the Chancellor on behalf of the delegation.
The clerk on duty in the corridor almost didn’t recognize him as a man of Eastern Liao.
The silver chain that usually hung by his ear and the small, tribal braids were gone. Following the local customs, he had bound his hair in a topknot and wore wide robes with long sleeves, secured by a jade belt.
Aside from his pale grey-blue eyes, which hinted at foreign blood, a cursory glance would suggest he was nothing more than a noble son of the Central Plains.
The rules for seeing the Chancellor were something he had learned after only one attempt.
To avoid hours of hassle, the clerk announced him and led him directly into the hall.
Gu Huaiyu sat on a soft couch, his back against a cushion, reading a secret report from “The Hearing.” One by one, he dropped the slips of paper into the charcoal brazier, watching them turn to ash.
Pei Jingyi was nearby, holding a grain of millet and teasing a parrot in a cage. When he saw Yelü Chi enter, his eyebrows twitched.
Their gazes met in a brief, sharp clash.
Pei Jingyi pointed a finger at his own eyes and then traced a circle in the air toward Yelü Chi.
The meaning was clear: I’m watching you. Keep your hands clean.
Yelü Chi gave a thin, mocking smile and pressed a hand to his chest, offering a grassland salute before stepping forward. Following the etiquette of Great Chen, he performed a kneeling salute. “Greetings, Chancellor Gu.”
Gu Huaiyu didn’t even blink. The slip of paper in his hand happened to mask the glint in his eyes. He remained as immovable as a mountain. “You are but a lowly interpreter. For what reason do you seek an audience?”
He showed no intention of letting Yelü Chi rise. Yelü Chi remained on his knees but straightened his back, looking sharp and capable. “I come at the command of the delegation to offer my thanks to Chancellor Gu.”
“It is thanks to Your Excellency’s great assistance that our delegation was able to recover the body of Lord Wu Wei.”
Had his expression not been so calm and rippleless, those words would have sounded like biting sarcasm.
Gu Huaiyu let out a short, mocking laugh and tilted his chin. “No need for such courtesy. It was only what I ought to do.”
Seeing that Gu Huaiyu didn’t even possess a shred of guilt, Yelü Chi found himself admiring the man’s sheer audacity. “Since Lord Wu Wei’s body has been recovered, our side will naturally honor our promise. Yesterday, a fast rider was dispatched to Shangjing to advise the Regent to fulfill the agreement.”
A masochist?
Gu Huaiyu looked up at him, his expression flawlessly indifferent. He asked with mock seriousness, “Oh? If the Vice-Envoy also happened to die in Great Chen, could we perhaps trade him for a few more cities and several hundred miles of grazing land?”
Yelü Chi was actually charmed into a laugh by his irritation.
Killing one Chief Envoy wasn’t enough; he wanted to kill the Vice-Envoy too? Did he really think the Eastern Liao delegation was a soft persimmon to be squeezed?
Yet, the moment he looked at that face, his anger mysteriously evaporated.
This beauty was sickly, and even his threats sounded as soft as a lover’s whisper. He was like a cat playing with a mouse—one flick of the tail, and it made it hard for anyone to truly stay angry.
