Yun Niang watched, dumbstruck. It was her first time seeing him in this “sycophantic” mode, and she couldn’t help but cover her mouth with a light laugh.
Gu Huaiyu pulled his hand away, casually wiping the residual warmth onto Pei Jingyi’s shoulder. He glanced at Yun Niang. “What are you laughing at?”
Yun Niang was overcome with mirth. “I’m laughing because General Pei’s behavior doesn’t look like he’s trying to please you, My Lord. It looks more like… he’s flirting shamelessly.”
Gu Huaiyu gave a cold snort. He picked up his hand warmer and leaned against the carriage wall to rest with his eyes closed.
If one wants to flirt, one should at least find a fresh target. What was so appealing about a sickly, emaciated piece of “tofu” like him?
Pei Jingyi leaned in to catch the scent of him, appearing entirely unbothered. “I am sincere, from the bottom of my heart.”
Yun Niang’s smile deepened. A martial man’s skin was certainly thicker than a civil official’s; he could say such flattering nonsense with a straight face.
Gu Huaiyu ignored him. Without opening his eyes, he said, “Get out and drive the carriage.”
Pei Jingyi obediently crawled back out. The curtain flickered, and the cold wind was instantly sealed away.
The carriage fell silent, save for the faint crackling of the charcoal in the warmer. Yun Niang stole a glance at Gu Huaiyu. After a moment of hesitation, she spoke cautiously. “My Lord… was it General Pei who handled it?”
Gu Huaiyu opened his eyes to look at her.
Yun Niang immediately lowered her head. “I deserve punishment. I shouldn’t have been meddling.”
Gu Huaiyu rubbed his reddened nose. He closed his eyes and said nonchalantly, “The Iron Eagle Guard.”
Yun Niang was stunned for a moment. She hesitated before saying, “I thought it was General Pei.”
Such a major event had happened in the capital; even the maids and servants in the Chancellor’s Estate knew. Being at the center of the storm, they naturally wondered who had carried it out so beautifully. The outsiders only knew it was the Chancellor’s doing, but which of the Chancellor’s assets had been used was a matter of speculation—the household’s Iron Eagle Guard, the secret intelligence of “The Hearing,” the Director of the Secretariat Shen Jun, or the newly joined Pei Jingyi…
Gu Huaiyu’s fingers paused slightly on the warmer. “Why did you think it was him?”
“Your Lordship is wise.” Yun Niang tucked her sleeves and said softly, “The commoners in the city are whispering. They say the Chancellor stood up for the people, that he upheld the prestige of Great Chen—something even the Son of Heaven dared not do. In the eyes of the people, our estate is a place of integrity.”
“How much scorn have the people of our household endured over the years? Today, every one of them walks with their head held high.”
“But General Pei shows no sign of anything being different. The way he looks at you is the same as always.”
Gu Huaiyu narrowed his eyes slightly and gave a soft “Mm,” an acknowledgment of Yun Niang’s observation.
Given Pei Jingyi’s usual temperament, he should have approached him by now, either praising him with a “Well done, My Lord” or telling him, “Next time there’s such a good task, leave it to me.” Yet today, there had been no such movement at all.
The gates of West Mountain Temple were secluded. Incense smoke curled among the ancient pines and cypresses, and the unmelted snow clung to the eaves in crystal icicles.
As was his custom, Gu Huaiyu brought incense and pastries for Auntie Chen. He spent the afternoon in the meditation room, chatting with her to ease her boredom. It was only when the sun began to dip toward the west that he rose to take his leave, boarding a mountain sedan chair for the slow descent.
Pei Jingyi walked at the front to clear the way, one hand resting on his saber, his steps steady but unhurried. The wind blew through the woods, carrying flecks of snow that stung the cheeks.
Suddenly, he stopped.
There were footprints in the snow.
They were shallow, nearly covered by the fresh snowfall, but they could not escape his eyes. These footprints were evenly spaced and the footing was extremely stable—marks left by someone who had practiced martial arts for years. And they had been left after they had ascended the mountain.
Before Zhou Ruian died, he had mentioned that his “superior” had suggested an ambush near West Mountain Temple to assassinate Gu Huaiyu during his pilgrimage. It seemed that failed plan had been reactivated.
Pei Jingyi took a step back inconspicuously and let out a casual whistle.
The “porters” behind him paused, then slowly lowered the sedan. Their hands moved to the bulges hidden beneath their coarse cloth tunics. The coordination of the Iron Eagle Guard required no words; within heartbeats, they had silently surrounded the sedan in a protective formation.
Pei Jingyi retreated to the side of the sedan and leaned toward the curtain, a hint of eager excitement in his smile. “My Lord, there are about twenty brave souls hiding in the snow. They likely have crossbows.”
“They’ll handle the mess. I’ll protect you.”
There was a moment of silence from within the sedan.
“Mm.”
