Gu Jinyu looked at him quietly for a moment before answering. “That isn’t called bullying. Everything within the Imperial Palace is a bestowed grace.”
Gu Xiaodeng let out an “Ah,” and reached up to pat Gu Jinyu on the head. The chatterbox suddenly fell silent. Even he didn’t know how to use his skilled words to comfort someone in this situation. So, in their shared identity as victims, he resorted to touch.
Gu Jinyu simply spaced out for a moment and then found himself enveloped in Gu Xiaodeng’s youthful, thin embrace.
He froze, somehow feeling a sense of peace. He simply leaned on Gu Xiaodeng’s shoulder, just as Zhang Dengqing had told him before leaving—weighing it, repeatedly weighing it.
Gu Xiaodeng patted his back, chattering idly. “Tree Branch, you still haven’t told me why you picked the name ‘Shanqing’ for me. Does it have some good meaning?”
“One character is ‘mountain,’ one is ‘forest.’ That’s all there is to it. If Royal Father had named you, it would just be some derivative, vulgar name projecting his ambitions. If Mother Consort had named you, it would just be some pretentiously elegant name following the preferences of a superior. If you named yourself, you couldn’t pick a name that makes you happier than ‘Xiaodeng.’ So it was better for me to take the initiative and give you a false name that offers a bit more freedom. If you don’t like the new name, don’t like the new identity, you can just blame me. Given your current position, you can only blame me a little. You can’t hold a grudge against them.”
Gu Xiaodeng listened, utterly shocked. He grabbed Gu Jinyu’s shoulders and stared him straight in the eyes. “Wow, is this really you, Gu Senqing? You can actually say so much to me! And so frankly! Did you have a personality change after going outside? Don’t scare me.”
Gu Jinyu simply looked at him with those deep, dark eyes of his. He wasn’t wearing that habitual, practiced smile like before. Indifference was indifference. Gloom was gloom. World-weariness was world-weariness.
He lowered his head and leaned back on Gu Xiaodeng’s shoulder. “Just take it as that.”
Gu Xiaodeng’s heart was a chorus of croaking frogs. He liked Gu Jinyu’s current relaxed and honest state. This was good. No need for pretense.
What did it mean to be brothers? This was what it meant to be true brothers!
Gu Xiaodeng’s energy surged. He continued to hug his good brother, holding him and swaying, then asked him quietly, “Why did you suddenly go on a military campaign to the Outer State? Did Royal Father force you to go?”
“Yes, and no. He ordered me to go, but in my heart, I also wanted to. I went outside to see with my own eyes the path Third Brother chose.”
Gu Xiaodeng’s ears perked up. He had known all along that the brotherhood between Gu Jinyu and Gu Pinghan was twisted—probably a mix of admiration, envy, contempt, mutual sympathy, and shared honor and disgrace, each complementing the other.
“Royal Father knows what I’m thinking, knows I’m watching, knows I’m learning. So he told me to go and see for myself. No matter how Third Brother struggles, in the end, he can only struggle within the confines of the Gu family. Third Brother can’t break free from the Gu family. Royal Father is using him to warn me not to foolishly dream of escaping the Gu family’s control. No one can leave this intricate, complex net of power.”
Gu Jinyu shifted half his weight onto Gu Xiaodeng and said in a low voice, “Shanqing, we are all here. I don’t know how much time we’ll have to spend to endure this tedious, meaningless growing up.”
Gu Xiaodeng was stunned. He pulled Gu Jinyu upright to face him again, exclaiming loudly, “Brother! Good brother!”
Gu Jinyu was speechless.
“What’s there to be afraid of?” Gu Xiaodeng slapped him vigorously, making his short ponytail sway. “We’re so young! We have plenty of time! If it takes time, so be it. Being willing to spend that time is what matters most!”
Gu Jinyu looked at him, just about to smile, when Blossom Ashes flew in through the window and tapped on the pane.
“Royal Father summons me.” Gu Jinyu stood up. The youthful spirit and heavy, deathly air intertwined on his person. “I’ll be busy for at least half a month. Just focus on your studies. If you suffer any losses here, try your best to find Zhu Mi.”
He had already started walking out but then turned back, bent down, and embraced him. “That hairpin I gave you—remember to use it often. If Feng’en won’t let you wear it, then try using your authority as Gongzi to pressure him a little. It won’t hurt them. What I said to you before still stands: keep your distance from Ge Dongchen. When you need to get close to someone, find Guan Yunji.”
“And…” Gu Jinyu held him a bit tighter, a hint of darkness in his voice. “Stay far away from Su Mingya.”
~
Gu Xiaodeng’s days of study grew peaceful. Whether or not it was because Ge Dongchen had violently beaten down those who were bullying him, his life in the following days was extremely calm—so calm that Gu Xiaodeng found it a bit disconcerting.
He had always been adept at going with the flow and adapting to his environment. When people came to make trouble for him before, he unhappily matched wits and courage with them. Every day, he entered the Academy full of fighting spirit, energetically clashing with overbearing classmates who radiated obvious malice. Now that no one came to provoke him, he gradually relaxed.
Then he discovered a problem that couldn’t be underestimated. If others didn’t come to challenge or trip him up, he was completely isolated from everyone. Within the collective of the Academy, everyone else clustered in groups of three or five, each with their own companions. He was alone, solitary. His book servant, who considered himself a lowly attendant, would never converse with him.
Gu Xiaodeng did consider seeking out Su Mingya for company. But first, Young Master Su was frail and sickly, often skipping classes. Second, the warning Gu Jinyu had given the day he left was so cold and severe that it left Gu Xiaodeng somewhat bewildered.
He had just gotten used to the peaceful, untroubled days when he immediately had to adapt to the deadening, lonely days of isolation. Ge Dongchen used to occasionally come near him during martial arts class, but now, for some unknown reason, he deliberately avoided him. Gu Xiaodeng didn’t seek him out either. When he was alone and went to find Guan Yunji, he met with repeated rebuffs, only stewing in frustration.
From the sixteenth of May to the end of May, a full half-month, Gu Xiaodeng lived in this state of being a transparent person.
For him, since he couldn’t leave this small, closed collective, he would much rather accept the battle of wits and courage with others. That state was actually better than the life of a lonely, invisible person.
Gu Xiaodeng didn’t like loneliness. He didn’t like being alone. This wasn’t directly related to his having been locked up alone in the Confinement Tower. It was simply in his nature. Ever since he could remember, he loved weaving through crowds, meeting all kinds of people, having all sorts of casual companions. That was the liveliness he loved.
Now, he felt like he was about to burst from the suppression.
So when Guan Yunji condescended to come find him, inviting him to go out and play together during the ten-day holiday at the end of May, he agreed without a moment’s hesitation.
Vast Marsh Academy had a holiday every ten days. The thirtieth of May was the last holiday of the month.
It was a rare month’s end in the blazing summer heat. He didn’t know who first suggested leaving Zhenbei Prince Mansion to go to the famous Candle Dream Pavilion in the Western District of Changluo for half the evening, just to break the monotony of long-term study and bitter cultivation.
As soon as Guan Yunji finished explaining, Gu Xiaodeng agreed. As soon as classes ended on the afternoon of the twenty-ninth, half of the twenty-five students either returned home or stayed in the Student Courtyard. The rest of them went together to Candle Dream Pavilion, their servants accompanying them for the outing.
When leaving, Gu Xiaodeng rode in the same carriage as Guan Yunji. He leaned out of the window to look and spotted Ge Dongchen on horseback. In high spirits, he waved at him, and Ge Dongchen smiled back at him from the saddle.
He turned his head and spoke to Guan Yunji, whose face was perpetually stiff. “Brother Guan, what kind of place is Candle Dream Pavilion? Is it a restaurant?”
Guan Yunji didn’t even look at him. His temper had been rather poor lately. “Yes! Just go and eat your food. Don’t make a fool of yourself because of your limited experience.”
“Alright, alright, I’m hungry anyway.” Gu Xiaodeng happily wagged his head.
When they arrived at Candle Dream Pavilion, Gu Xiaodeng followed behind Guan Yunji, peeking and poking his head around. Only when they got there did he realize the place seemed to be both a dance hall and a music house. The decor was built to encourage dreamy, drunken indulgence. The wait staff attending to them were all quite good-looking. The atmosphere wasn’t particularly boisterous, but rather had a sense of quiet, refined pleasure.
Guan Yunji ordered a private room, spacious enough for a dozen young masters to make a ruckus. Outside the Academy, in the world of mortal pleasures, everyone’s expressions were touched with liveliness and amiability. They all conversed amiably with Gu Xiaodeng. This was exactly what Gu Xiaodeng wanted: good food and dining companions.
The large table of people ate, laughed, and played for nearly two hours. Gu Xiaodeng drank a few glasses of floral wine, stars occasionally circling in his vision, finding it all just amusing. After eating, they said they were going to move upstairs to the dance hall. Gu Xiaodeng, swaying his head, tagged along at the very tail end of the group, lightly humming a tune under his breath.
He was at the very back of the line, not thinking too much. Knowing his companions weren’t far ahead, his mind grew more and more relaxed.
He never expected that as he passed one of the private rooms, the door would suddenly open. Someone inside yanked him in. The room was lit by lazy, drifting incense, with not a single ray of light. Before Gu Xiaodeng could shake his head to sharpen his wits, the person accurately bound his eyes with a blindfold.
