For a long time, the side chamber remained so silent that only the sound of Gu Huaiyu’s breathing could be heard.
He lifted his arm to cover his eyes, his chest heaving as he exhaled several deep, shaky breaths. The emotions that had spiraled out of control slowly ebbed back into a forced calm. Only his snow-pale earlobes remained flushed with a lingering, telltale pink.
“…You dog,” he cursed under his breath, his voice still carrying a hint of unwashed raspiness.
When he finally lowered his arm, his eyes had regained their clarity. His expression settled into its usual composed mask. He stared at the closed door, his eyes narrowing sliver by sliver. Just wait and see how I deal with you.
The next morning, the vermillion gates of the Magistrate’s manor were thrown wide.
The Iron Eagle Guard had spent the night conducting a thorough raid. In a hidden cavity behind the wall of Magistrate Qian’s study, they had unearthed a secret chamber. Stacked rows of gold bricks shimmered under the torchlight, a hoard so dazzling it made one’s eyes ache.
Magistrate Qian had collapsed on the spot, knowing his doom was sealed. He wailed and begged to see Gu Huaiyu, but how could a mere magistrate see the Lord Chancellor whenever he pleased?
The Iron Eagle Guard bound him tightly, sealed his confession, and loaded him onto a carriage to be sent to the capital overnight.
As for that mountain of gold and silver?
Who had seen it? That was clearly the Chancellor’s personal wealth, brought from his own estate, merely stored in the Magistrate’s manor for temporary safekeeping.
Gu Huaiyu’s carriage waited before the manor gates. Pei Jingyi and Yan Zheng were already standing by.
Yan Zheng was no fool. After a night of chaotic raiding and shouting, he had easily deduced that the “Distinguished Guest” was none other than Gu Huaiyu. As soon as he saw Gu Huaiyu emerge, he rushed forward. His hands fidgeted awkwardly, unsure where to settle, until he finally settled on a deep, heavy bow.
“Lord Chancellor! There was such a mess within the Provincial Army… It is only thanks to your care that those young rascals were spared a worse fate.”
Gu Huaiyu stood on the steps while Yun Niang meticulously adjusted the silver-fox fur collar of his heavy cloak. He didn’t spare Pei Jingyi a single glance, looking only at Yan Zheng. “Why so formal? It is only what this Chancellor ought to do.”
Hearing this, Yan Zheng’s face—already flushed with excitement—burned even hotter. “The Chancellor says it is what he ‘ought’ to do, but in the past, no one ever did such a thing for us!”
He grinned, though his voice grew thick with emotion. “We are truly… truly grateful to you, My Lord!”
Gu Huaiyu stepped down the stairs, patting Yan Zheng lightly on the shoulder. “What I want is not gratitude.”
Yan Zheng understood immediately. He clasped his fists and dropped to one knee, his voice ringing with conviction. “We pledge our absolute loyalty to the Lord Chancellor!”
Gu Huaiyu nodded with satisfaction. “Rise,” he said simply, before turning toward the carriage.
Pei Jingyi was already kneeling by the carriage side, his broad back bowed toward the earth. His head was lowered, masking his expression for the moment.
Gu Huaiyu approached with a cold, expressionless face. He didn’t hesitate for a second. As he stepped up to board the carriage, he deliberately pressed his toe down, stepping firmly onto the back of Pei Jingyi’s head.
A low, sharp hiss escaped Pei Jingyi’s throat, yet he remained motionless in his kneeling posture. He didn’t straighten up until the carriage curtain had completely fallen shut.
He leaned toward the curtain. “My Lord, may this subordinate—”
“Get lost.”
The voice from within the carriage was measured, elegant, and utterly dismissive.
Pei Jingyi’s brows twitched. He took a half-step back. “As you command.”
He turned and walked toward his horse, his stride so light it almost stirred a breeze.
Yan Zheng was already mounted and waiting. When he saw Pei Jingyi vault into the saddle, he noticed the man’s eyes were practically brimming with a spring-like luster, his smile shamelessly rakish.
Pei Jingyi pulled a handkerchief from his robe. The corners were carefully folded inward, as if he were terrified of tarnish. He lowered his head, pressing it to his nose, and took a slow, deep breath.
Yan Zheng saw the exquisite embroidery and the high-quality fabric—clearly not something belonging to a rough soldier like Pei Jingyi. He couldn’t help but ask, “Eh? Where’d that kerchief come from?”
Pei Jingyi folded the cloth gently, his manner bordering on the possessive. “A token of affection.”
Before Yan Zheng could lean in for a closer look, Pei Jingyi tucked it back into his breast pocket, even giving his chest a meaningful pat.
Yan Zheng watched him, clicking his tongue in wonder. “Brother Jingyi, it seems your heart has finally been stirred!”
Pei Jingyi only smiled without a word, digging his spurs into his horse’s flanks to gallop ahead.
The party returning to the capital stopped at noon to rest at a small town tavern.
The tavern was originally a humble establishment, but today it was organized with clinical precision. An advance party had already prepared the meal; the Chancellor’s personal chefs were in the kitchen, preparing stews, steamed delicacies, and stir-frys that rivaled the best in the capital. Even the chopsticks were finely polished agarwood.
