Gu Jinyu was rushed to the Imperial Palace under escort. The new Emperor had just finished placating a host of newly risen nobles and old powers. She was waiting in the Heavenly Blessing Palace to deal with Gu Jinyu, the last remaining thorn.
The Third Princess, Gao Mingxing, stood at the entrance of the Heavenly Blessing Palace in her riding attire, her gaze like a torch as she watched Gu Jinyu and his steward Zhu Liu approach. Zhu Liu, keeping his tail between his legs and holding his breath, tried to follow Gu Jinyu inside, but Gao Mingxing plucked him back at the main gate.
Zhu Liu: “…”
Gu Jinyu stepped through the palace doors without pause. Inside the vast Heavenly Blessing Palace, only two lamps were lit. Aside from adding half a soft bed, the Empress Gao Mingshi had removed all other furnishings. In a single night, she had dismantled all the opulent and useless belongings of the Late Emperor, stripping the palace down until it was nearly barren. It was as if the residence was reduced to fresh, white paper, waiting for someone to splash ink upon it.
As he entered, the Empress stood tall and graceful before one lamp, lost in thought as she stared at a pair of ear beads under the dim yellow light. Only when she heard a sound did she close the brocade box holding the beads and turn to face Gu Jinyu.
“The Su Family just relayed word that their Gongzi was injured in a blast from an unknown device atop the Star-Picking Tower. He is barely clinging to life. Chancellor Su was ashen-faced earlier at court and petitioned Zhen for permission to retire.”
The Empress’s voice was calm, mentioning only this dispute, skipping over the Yue and Ge families.
“The Guan Family has just fallen. If the Su Family withdraws next, can you, Gu Jinyu, replace a thousand scholars, or ten thousand warriors?”
“Jin has millions of patriots willing to pledge loyalty to Your Majesty. You won’t miss one petty man like me.” The bloodshot redness in Gu Jinyu’s eyes hadn’t fully faded. “Your Majesty, where is Gao Mingqian fleeing to?”
“Not a hindrance.” The Empress remained composed. “A military insurrection broke out at the Northern Border. That is what you should be concerned about. The Prince Zhenbei has already requested permission to campaign against the Northern Rong. Once the troops march, you will all go together.”
Gu Jinyu persisted, asking again: “I only want to apprehend the traitor Gao Mingqian and bring him to justice. Where has that renegade fled?”
The Empress’s hand unconsciously rested on the box containing the ear beads. She paused for a moment before giving her answer: “Zhen will handle this personally. If you want the head of Zhen’s second brother, you should exchange it with military merits from the North. Furthermore, Baiyong Mountain was originally territory under the Su Family’s jurisdiction. From this moment, it belongs to you, Gu Jinyu. Control over the city’s entire water supply shall also be entrusted to you.”
She cut off Gu Jinyu’s next bout of stubbornness: “Zhen knows you are searching for someone. Listen, where no remains are found, there is still a variable. Rather than seeking vengeance everywhere like a mad dog, you’d best consider worldly fame and achievements first. Without power and influence, how will you shelter those behind you?”
“What do you mean?”
The Empress extinguished one lamp with her bare hand. The remaining lamp illuminated half her face. “A hundred years ago, Emperor Xuguang, Gao Li, and the Lionheart Empress Xie Qi left behind a ‘Record of Li Qi’s Strange World.’ It documents bizarre tales and extraordinary records known only to sovereigns across generations.”
Gu Jinyu’s mask-like face rippled, inch by inch, with the Empress’s calm recitation.
“There was an era in Jin when divine authority reigned supreme. A royal heir could return from death through the ghostly power of ancestors, returning to youth with memories of a past life intact, turning old into young, to return to adolescence and turn the tide. This occurred for dozens of generations, ending with Emperor Xuguang and the Lionheart Empress.
“The Imperial Couple razed the Protector of the Nation Temple, Jin’s seat of divine authority, and curbed the chaotic distortions of time. But a new problem emerged. The Emperor and Empress discovered that anyone bearing the Gao Family bloodline could potentially be caught in temporal disorder. However, those caught cannot regress in age; they can only traverse into future eras.”
The sound of roaring water seemed to fill Gu Jinyu’s ears: “Your Majesty, are you saying… the one I seek did not go to the Yellow Springs, but went to a later age?”
“The Gu Shanqing you seek—if no body is found, this is a possibility.” The Empress looked at him. “Zhen only tells you now because, upon seeing the three Gold Medals of Exemption from Death left by the Late Emperor, Zhen learned that your identity and Gu Shanqing’s have been swapped since birth. Gu Jinyu, did you know this?”
“I knew. The Late Emperor could pardon the Gu Family, and Your Majesty can thus censure the Gu Family. I have no objection whether I live or die in the coming days.” Gu Jinyu quickly regained his composure, “But Your Majesty just said ‘anyone bearing the Gao Family bloodline.’ Your meaning is—”
The Empress calmly stated: “The Prince Zhenbei, Gu Yan, is a bastard child of the previous generation’s Imperial Family. In terms of kinship, the five children of the Gu Family are all Zhen’s cousins by blood. This was personally told to Zhen by the Late Emperor on the night of his passing. The Prince Zhenbei himself has never known this.”
Gu Jinyu suddenly laughed. He mocked Gu Yan, yet simultaneously thanked him. Thanked him for being the Imperial Family’s scandal, the sole reason for the little lamp’s miraculous escape.
But after the laughter passed, the urge to weep surged up abruptly.
Gu Jinyu could not shed a single tear. He had been like this for many years. Guan, Ge, and Su could all cry, but he could not. Only now did his joy and sorrow surge up belatedly, covering the blazing fury of vengeance.
Twenty-two days had passed since the night of the Winter Hunt. He had dived into the pond countless times, asked countless times about that night’s observations. No matter how many times he received the same answer, he refused to believe the final outcome. Yet now, from the Empress’s mouth came only a tale of the supernatural and bizarre—a fanciful, unofficial history—and he believed it without needing any proof.
He was willing to believe it, unconditionally.
The little lamp might still be alive.
He had simply gone to a later era, away from the filth of this time.
How wonderful.
Gu Jinyu raised a hand and covered his eyes. Tears suddenly burst forth like a collapsing dam. He couldn’t make a sound, having forgotten when he last shed tears.
Perhaps it was severed in the confinement room back in his childhood. Or perhaps it was severed during the Ghost Festival five years ago when he fell into the water—Gu Xiaodeng had fished him out, drenching his face with scalding teardrops. He had felt then that his own tears had been delegated to Gu Xiaodeng to cry on his behalf.
After all these years, he shed tears of grief for Gu Xiaodeng—so late, and so heavily.
“Your Majesty, do you know how many years after… that future era he went to might be?”
“According to the records of past sovereigns, the shortest span is seven months, the longest, six years in total.”
“Alright…”
Gu Jinyu wept silently, the torrent of tears having been dammed for years. No matter how his palm tried to cover them, they welled up and flowed like blood.
He thought, at most, he would only wait six years.
Six years, just over two thousand days and nights.
It was almost dawn when Gu Jinyu left the Imperial Palace. Zhu Liu couldn’t get away, and his subordinate aides had gone to muster troops outside the city. Alone, he rode a thousand-li steed north, heading back to the Gu Family estate.
It was the New Year. Contrary to the Gu Family’s usual, trend-following, false bustle of previous years, this was the solitary genuine quiet in over two decades.
Last night, on New Year’s Eve, the Guan Family was exterminated. Gu Ruhui, at An Ruoyi’s request, had taken her secretly outside the Guan estate. From a high tower, they had witnessed with their own eyes the total annihilation of the Guan Family clan that An Ruoyi so desired. It was precisely because Gao Mingqian had predicted their movements that he risked venturing out that night to abduct Gu Ruhui.
The Princess Consort and the Second Young Miss were missing, their whereabouts unknown. The Eldest Young Miss, Gu Renli, had been married to the Northern Rong for twelve years as part of a peace alliance. The Heir, ranked third, Gu Pinghan, was delayed in the Southwest by military duties. Gu Yan, the head of the family, was outside the city, taking over half of the Ge Family’s military authority, wholeheartedly preparing for the imminent northern expedition.
In the vast Gu Family estate, only the Fifth Young Master, Gu Shouyi, just thirteen, was left to guard the New Year alone.
The moment Gu Jinyu returned, Gu Shouyi, who had been awake all night, rushed over with eyes red-rimmed from exhaustion: “Fourth Brother, Fourth Brother!”
After nearly nine months of separation, compounded by the family fracturing during the New Year, Gu Shouyi’s tears fell.
Gu Jinyu’s response was: “Don’t call me that anymore. You know, you and I share no blood ties.”
Gu Shouyi’s tears still clung to his jaw. He froze in place, rigid as a wooden stake.
Gu Jinyu turned to leave. Gu Shouyi hurriedly chased after him: “Fourth Brother! Could you… could you not leave me alone?”
“Hasn’t your true fourth brother always been living like this?” Gu Jinyu’s voice grew hoarse again. “None of you accepted him. He was isolated in a tiny corner, alone for so many years. You have enjoyed the glory of a noble clan, the respect of the entire household. No one forced you to toil like an ox day and night, and no one forced you to sell your beauty to serve others. What do you have to complain about?”
Gu Shouyi was left standing where he was. Gu Jinyu turned and went towards the East Forest Garden. All the places Gu Xiaodeng had lived in were sealed by Zhu Mi. Before the northern expedition, he wanted to spend as much time as possible in places connected to Gu Xiaodeng.
But Changluo was so vast, and the places Gu Xiaodeng had moved through were so small.
Gu Jinyu would destroy the Star-Picking Tower, the Bright Candle Room, the Bamboo Courtyard. Su Mingya was unworthy of them.
After erasing those, Gu Xiaodeng’s territory left behind only scant traces.
Gu Jinyu walked on the ground, Blossom Ashes followed him in the air. Man and eagle entered the Vast Marsh Academy, hailed by many noble young masters as a paradise, and arrived at Gu Xiaodeng’s cage.
In front of the ordinary little hut, a black-and-white herding dog with dull, dry fur lay listlessly with its eyes closed. Blossom Ashes flew straight to it. The little dog and the great eagle each had a pair of black bean eyes. The moment their gazes met, they both brightened.
Xiao Pei came alive, scurrying around wildly, wagging its tail frantically at Blossom Ashes. Before Gu Jinyu could approach, it dashed to him, reared up on its hind legs, and pawed at Gu Jinyu’s robes, rubbing and barking chaotically. It didn’t mind the dust and the bloody smell clinging to Gu Jinyu. It was just that, after its excitement passed, it kept tilting its head in confusion, looking behind Gu Jinyu. The meaning was clear: Where’s my other papa?
Gu Jinyu silently picked it up. Xiao Pei was both happy and anxious, barking incessantly.
When he carried the dog inside, Feng’en and Feng Huan were already standing respectfully by the door. Feng’en was still somewhat composed, but Feng Huan was so nervous he looked about to cry.
Gu Jinyu did not make things difficult for them. He simply carried the dog silently into the inner room, lowering his head to ask Xiao Pei in his arms: “Xiao Pei, what did Xiaodeng usually do? Do you know?”
Xiao Pei squirmed out of his hold like a loach, bounced and ran to the desk, and bit open each drawer one by one. It showed Gu Jinyu the records of observations and study notes that Gu Xiaodeng had meticulously organized in chronological order.
Gu Jinyu’s eyelashes trembled. His hand hesitated in mid-air for a long moment before he carefully extracted Gu Xiaodeng’s earliest record of observations.
Opening to the first page, it recorded Gu Xiaodeng’s thoughts on his first day entering the academy:
【The world is at peace, an age of prosperity. Changluo is a land of gold, Vast Marsh, a paradise home.】
Gu Jinyu carefully flipped backwards and soon saw these lines:
【Tianming 13th Year, Late Summer, Fifth Month. Inspired by listening to Jinyu’s conversation. Gu Senqing, truly like a deep, unknown forest, like the sharp coldness of a frosted blade… utterly different from me, worlds apart.】
At this final line, Gu Jinyu was shot through the heart. The reactivated tear ducts acted up again, and tears fell uncontrollably.
He hastily turned his face away, pressing his lips tight, waiting for the grief to pass. Xiao Pei circled him. After circling for a long while and failing to find the little papa, its joyfully perked tail drooped down, the tip trailing on the cold floor. It went closer and licked the tear stains on Gu Jinyu’s face.
Gu Jinyu closed his eyes, lowered his head, and took deep breaths for a long time. Only then did he embrace Xiao Pei and carefully open Gu Xiaodeng’s record from four years ago. He saw a line crossed out inside. He flipped the paper, trying to discern the trace that Gu Xiaodeng himself had rejected. He soon recognized the line: “Born in the same year, same month, same day as me.”
So what Gu Xiaodeng had written then was: 【Senqing was born in the same year, same month, same day as me, yet is utterly different from me, worlds apart.】
Gu Jinyu’s errant tear ducts could not recover for a long time.
I stand in the human world, a minister of the highest rank.
You were beneath the water, unasked and unknown.
