Chapter 8

Returning to the Temple Repository, Liu Yuanxun was about to sit down on the chair when he heard a soft sound from behind him.

He turned his head and saw that Gu Lianzhao had already knelt on the ground.

Liu Yuanxun had intended to go over and help him up, but with the soft-cushioned chair just half a step away, he hesitated for a second before sitting down first. Only then did he say, “Why kneel? Get up and talk.”

Gu Lianzhao rose to his feet. “What happened today was my oversight. I caused trouble for you, Your Highness.”

The situation wasn’t hard to understand.

Meng Yuanfeng had seized the opportunity to corner Gu Lianzhao and beat him up, surrounded by his Divine Martial Guards. Without someone to uphold justice, Gu Lianzhao would have simply taken the beating, and no one could have proven his innocence no matter how much he protested.

“It’s no real trouble, and not entirely for your sake,” Liu Yuanxun explained. “Ever since Noble Consort Yuan became pregnant, Meng Yuanfeng has grown even more brazen. I heard that a few days ago, he even abducted a common girl from East Street. He covered his tracks well, though, and her parents took money from the Meng Family and refused to press charges. Even though I heard about it, I had no way to interfere with Dali Temple’s affairs. Today’s incident worked out perfectly, though. It was lucky you held back and didn’t strike him too hard. That gave me the leverage to send him straight to Dali Temple.”

The Dali Temple Minister was known for his utmost fairness. If he took the case, he was sure to uncover everything Meng Yuanfeng had done.

Gu Lianzhao’s faintly restless heart gradually cooled under Liu Yuanxun’s calm explanation, sinking back into its initial dead silence.

Of course. They weren’t a real married couple, after all. How could Liu Yuanxun send someone to Dali Temple just for him? If there were even a shred of affection, how could he say something like “it’s good you didn’t hit him hard”?

He lowered his head in silence and said no more.

Liu Yuanxun didn’t press him further. Instead, he bent over his stack of accumulated documents.

In the quiet room, the sun gradually slanted westward.

The evening light in the study slowly shrank, sliding from Gu Lianzhao’s shoulder, down his arm, across his hand, and toward his fingertips. Just before it vanished, Gu Lianzhao stepped back first, completely hiding himself in the shadows.

Places that were too bright simply didn’t suit him.

…

For two days straight, Liu Yuanxun brought Gu Lianzhao to work with him.

While Liu Yuanxun reviewed documents, Gu Lianzhao practiced martial arts in the open space behind the Temple Repository. Though they spent each day together as the Emperor had ordered, their actual time interacting was pitifully short.

That day, as Liu Yuanxun was reviewing the final procedures for the sacrificial rites in the archive room, Ling Qing led a simple-looking man into the study just as he finished inking his brush.

“Master, Liu San is here.”

As soon as Liu San entered, Liu Yuanxun noticed it was snowing outside. He glanced at the snow on Liu San’s shoulder and thought of Gu Lianzhao practicing in the back courtyard. He was about to ask Ling Qing to call him in when he recalled Gu Lianzhao’s resistant and standoffish demeanor. In the end, he kept his mouth shut.

Several days had passed since their wedding. At first, the two of them could still exchange a few words, and the atmosphere had been decent.

But over the past couple of days, Gu Lianzhao had reverted to his initial coldness. He didn’t initiate conversation, and even during meals, he wolfed down his food and ended things quickly, avoiding time together as much as possible.

At first, Liu Yuanxun wondered if he’d offended him somehow. Then he realized that Gu Lianzhao was a ger, after all, and keeping his distance was only natural. So he let it be.

His thoughts drifted to Gu Lianzhao for a moment until Ling Qing presented a small wooden box about three inches square. Only then did Liu Yuanxun focus on the matter at hand.

Liu San beamed as he spoke. “Master, I had someone authenticate this music score, and it’s genuine. It’s said to be over four hundred years old. The family didn’t recognize its value and nearly threw it out as trash. If I hadn’t stopped by the pawnshop on a whim to test the waters, and if Boss Song there hadn’t taken it in, I might never have gotten my hands on it.”

Liu San had a sharp eye for valuables. If he said it was real, it almost certainly was.

Liu Yuanxun smiled. “Thank you for your hard work. Go with Ling Qing to collect your reward.”

Liu San’s face lit up with joy. As he reached the door, though, he turned back, looking like he had something to say but was too shy to speak up.

Liu Yuanxun glanced at him, assuming he wanted a bigger reward, and asked, “What is it?”

“Your Highness,” Liu San licked his dry lips and gave a timid smile, “I’m getting married next month. Back home, we have a custom that red fruit from the wedding day brings good fortune and wards off illness. I’ve served you for over three years now. If you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to have the gatekeeper pass some to you…”

Liu Yuanxun paused for a moment before smiling. “I appreciate you thinking of me. I’ll let the gatekeeper know to accept it properly.”

“Yes, yes! As long as you don’t mind.” Liu San scratched his head and flashed a wide grin before following Ling Qing out.

Once they were gone, Liu Yuanxun opened the box and examined the ancient music score inside.

Aside from handling the matters that required the Minister of the Court of Imperial Sacrifices’ personal attention, he spent most of his time restoring classical texts and ancient music scores.

These tasks demanded vast knowledge, painstaking patience, and technical skill—and they were enormously expensive. Materials had to be sourced and repairs performed with vast sums of silver. Few could meet all those requirements, leaving Liu Yuanxun as the only one suited for the job.

What others found tedious, he enjoyed endlessly. He could sit there all day, and if Ling Ting didn’t urge him to rest, he might work himself to exhaustion or worse.

He opened the wooden box, revealing the yellowed sheets of paper.

Liu Yuanxun slipped on his silk gloves to avoid leaving marks and gently lifted the coarse, yellowed pages, laying them out slowly on a sheet of plain silk paper.

Most of the notes on the paper were damaged, the writing faded to near illegibility. The fragile sheets seemed as if a mere breeze could reduce them to dust.

But as Liu Yuanxun studied them, his expression changed.

This was a fake.

No matter how sophisticated the forgery or how convincingly the details were handled—enough to fool an expert like Liu San—for someone like Liu Yuanxun, steeped in the musical traditions of past dynasties, the score had one fatal flaw.

It used the jianpu notation most common four hundred years ago, and the title clearly named it a court piece from a dynasty of that era. Yet it included markings for strong and weak beats in a few places—markings that hadn’t been invented until two hundred years ago.

How curious.

Guqin scores were rare treasures, but their value lay in the music itself, not the paper it was copied on. They weren’t as pricey as porcelain or antiques, and few people collected them. Forging one was like throwing silver into the wind.

Even if the forger wanted to sell it for profit, why use four-hundred-year-old jianpu notation and then add an obvious anachronism like those beat markings, which gave away the fake at a glance?

Unless… the forger’s goal was for anyone who could read the score to spot the forgery immediately.

Intriguing.

Liu Yuanxun’s interest was piqued.

He summoned Ling Ting. “Liu San probably hasn’t gone far. Call him back. I have questions for him.”

Ling Ting acknowledged the order and soon returned with Ling Qing and Liu San in tow.

It was the first time Liu San had been summoned back like this, and his face showed unease and confusion.

Liu Yuanxun asked, “You said you got this score from Boss Song?”

Liu San nodded. “Your Highness, is there something wrong with the score?”

“No, not at all.” The person who sent the score had gone to great lengths, so there must be some other purpose. Liu San was clearly in the dark, and Liu Yuanxun had no intention of enlightening him. He merely asked, “Who is this Boss Song of yours?”

Liu San answered honestly. “Boss Song is from Gaoxian County. I’ve bought plenty of items from her shop, and she knows I’m acquiring things for you, Your Highness. So when she saw the score, she contacted me right away. I rode like the wind for a full five days to get it from her, verified its authenticity, and brought it straight here.”

“Did it pass through anyone else’s hands on the way?” Liu Yuanxun asked.

“No, no. I kept it tucked in my robes the whole time.”

Liu Yuanxun smiled. “I like this piece, and I’d like to meet the family who preserved it for so long. Would you mind fetching the head of the household to the prince’s residence? I’ll reward you separately for it. Ling Qing can take you to East Market to pick out a good horse too—faster travels suit you. Consider it my wedding gift.”

Liu San had served Liu Yuanxun for years and knew his temperament well. He also knew the rewards would be generous. Grinning ear to ear, he nodded and headed out to carry out the task.

Restoring a fake was far more entertaining than a genuine article.

Liu Yuanxun laid out his restoration tools and a sheet of fine paper beside him. He transcribed the legible characters first, then set to work clarifying the smudges and stains one by one.

After more than an hour, his body began to falter. His hands and feet grew ice-cold, and his vision started to blur. Ling Ting leaned in, worried. “Master, you should rest.”

Liu Yuanxun pressed a hand to his forehead, closing his eyes against the dizziness. In a low voice, he asked, “What time is it?”

“Just past shenshi. It’s time for you to head back to the residence.”

Liu Yuanxun’s curiosity about the zither score burned strong. He wanted to keep working, but his body wouldn’t allow it. He instructed Ling Ting to pack everything up and take it back to the residence so he could continue after a short rest.

Outside, the snow fell heavily, blanketing everything in white. Gu Lianzhao stood alone in the flurry, yet not a single flake clung to him.

Liu Yuanxun glanced at him, then looked again. He rubbed his eyes and muttered, “Strange. Am I seeing things? The aura around Gu Lianzhao feels off…”

“You’re not mistaken. He’s practicing internal force. What you’re seeing are the Qi waves formed by his leaking true qi,” Ling Ting replied. A faint trace of awe colored his usually emotionless voice.

In the distance, the young man in black stood untouched by the snow. His leaking true qi warped the air around him, sending waves of heat rolling outward. Snowflakes melted into droplets an inch from his body, falling to the ground.

The prodigious youth, brimming with talent—even from afar, his brilliance shone through the vast snowfall undimmed.

Liu Yuanxun couldn’t help feeling envious. “He looks warmer than the hand warmer I’m holding.”

The thought stirred a sudden memory, one he’d assumed long forgotten. It resurfaced with vivid clarity: on their wedding night, just how hot and soft the tip of that tongue had felt licking his finger…

Liu Yuanxun startled. He blinked rapidly, forcing the image from his mind.

A moment later, he cleared his throat and stared straight ahead. Even as he brushed past Gu Lianzhao, he didn’t spare him another glance.

…

The carriage rumbled toward the prince’s residence. Inside, the two men sat facing each other in silence.

The carriage was spacious enough, with seats on three sides and a small table in the center. Liu Yuanxun sat squarely in the middle, with Gu Lianzhao to his right.

Liu Yuanxun grew drowsy as he sat there. His foggy mind and heavy limbs deepened his exhaustion, and he began to slump uncontrollably. His eyelids grew as heavy as if they were weighted down with lead.

Gu Lianzhao noticed that his breathing had grown irregular. He slowly opened the eyes he had kept closed the entire journey. Just before the man at his side could slide off the seat, he extended his arm to bar his chest.

At that moment, Liu Yuanxun was as limp as a wet noodle. A single arm was hardly enough to halt his slide, and as he was about to slip away entirely, Gu Lianzhao had no choice but to lean back, pulling him over with evident distaste.

Liu Yuanxun ended up lying sideways on the seat, his head pillowed on Gu Lianzhao’s thigh. The breath escaping his lips carried a slight heat, and a faint, unnatural flush colored his pale, sickly face.

Gu Lianzhao couldn’t help but frown. Raising his voice slightly, he said, “Lord Ling, Prince Rui seems to have a fever. He’s passed out.”

Ling Ting tensed at once. “We’re almost at the estate,” he replied hurriedly. “Please look after His Highness a bit longer, Lord Gu. The carriage might jostle once it picks up speed.”

No sooner had he spoken than Ling Ting cracked the whip sharply and shouted, “Giddyap!”

As the carriage sped up, Liu Yuanxun rolled forward from his sideways position on the seat. Gu Lianzhao reached out and caught him, pulling him into a full embrace. A faint fragrance of cold plum blossoms wafted from the man in his arms, drifting slowly past Gu Lianzhao’s nose. It was subtle and elusive, not overpowering in the least, yet utterly captivating.

Gu Lianzhao went rigid as a stone, his expression darkening. He pressed himself flat against the carriage wall, as if he wanted nothing more than to put as much distance as possible between them.

The carriage came to an abrupt halt only when the reins yanked it to a stop. Gu Lianzhao finally exhaled, shoving Liu Yuanxun into Ling Ting’s arms like a hot potato just as he ducked in through the curtain.

“Thank you for taking care of him, Lord Gu!” Ling Ting paid no mind to the rudeness. He swiftly removed his own outer robe and wrapped it around Liu Yuanxun with practiced ease. Without another word, he scooped him up horizontally and hurried into the courtyard.

Several young servants rushed over along the way. At Ling Ting’s sharp command—”Quick, fetch Physician Wang!”—the clustered attendants scattered in haste.

Gu Lianzhao was about to step down from the carriage when he spotted a neatly wrapped package inside the book chest beside him. It was the one Ling Ting had stuffed in when they left the Taichang Temple. In his rush to carry Liu Yuanxun back to his room, he must have forgotten it.

He picked up the package and lifted the curtain. His eyes met those of a servant boy standing by the carriage.

The servant bowed nervously, a touch of anxiety in his posture, and ventured, “Does the Attendant Consort still need the carriage?”

That title—Attendant Consort—made Gu Lianzhao pause for a moment.

In that instant, it seemed to hit him: no matter what agreements he had made with Liu Yuanxun, or what their true relationship was, to everyone else, he was now Liu Yuanxun’s Attendant Consort.

Seeing him lost in thought, the servant didn’t dare speak up. He simply stood waiting in the snow. After a few breaths, with his head still lowered, he heard, “No need. You can stable the horses.”

“Yes, sir,” the servant replied. By the time he reached for the reins, Attendant Consort Gu had already walked off into the distance.