“Fulfilling the promise doesn’t mean we have nothing left to ask.”
Yelü Chi shifted the conversation to his real purpose. “Our Vice-Envoy has a question that keeps him awake at night. Perhaps Your Excellency can enlighten him.”
Gu Huaiyu’s fingers, poised to pick up a new slip of paper, suddenly paused. The paper folded silently between his fingers before being tossed into a black lacquer box at his side.
He let out a lazy “Mm,” showing no outward sign of change. “Speak.”
Pei Jingyi glanced at the box. Having stayed by Gu Huaiyu’s side for so long, he knew that box was only used for the most critical and urgent intelligence.
It seemed the Land of Great Chen was facing another crisis—one so significant it could not be sensed by Yelü Chi.
The parrot was perched on Pei Jingyi’s finger. Because he was distracted, the bird nipped his finger.
This feathered beast—who knew who it had been learning from—suddenly shrieked at the top of its lungs: “The Chancellor smells so good! The Chancellor smells so good!”
Pei Jingyi flicked a golden grain of millet into the parrot’s mouth with pinpoint accuracy, yet remained perfectly calm. “Even eating can’t shut your beak.”
Gu Huaiyu’s hand rested on the wooden box, his fingertips lightly tracing the surface.
Just as Pei Jingyi guessed, the news that had just arrived was enough to shake the entire court.
The slip of paper he had just burned was an emergency report from a “Hearing” spy embedded within the Provincial Army.
The Provincial Army consisted of local garrisons. While not as elite as the Northern Frontier Army, they were spread across every province and were the most numerous armed force in the empire.
Now, the Ningzhou Provincial Army had actually dared to kill their Army Overseer, a palace eunuch, and openly mutiny. This was a rebellion!
With the Overseer dead, the imperial court’s control over local military power was severed. If the news spread and the Provincial Armies in other states followed suit…
Yelü Chi’s gaze lingered on those jade-white knuckles for a moment before retracting. His grey-blue eyes studied Gu Huaiyu’s expression. “Please forgive me, Chancellor Gu.”
“Before our departure, our Vice-Envoy heard that Great Chen’s Chancellor holds immense power, but is not at all liked. The civil officials hate his tyranny, the generals resent him for withholding pay, and the commoners curse him for his corruption.”
Pei Jingyi glared at him coldly. Who says he isn’t liked?
Yelü Chi’s words were already being quite polite.
Gu Huaiyu’s eyes narrowed. His face darkened as he stared at Yelü Chi with displeasure.
A smile tugged at Yelü Chi’s lips. He leaned forward involuntarily, closing the distance between them by a few inches. “Yet now, Chancellor Gu has managed to make the civil and military officials reconcile. The scholars see you as their backbone, the general who performed the ‘Three Arrows of Mount Wu’ follows you like a loyal shadow, and the commoners are filled with gratitude…”
“The Vice-Envoy said he truly doesn’t understand. How does a man everyone once avoided like the plague become a Jade Bodhisattva that everyone scrambles to flatter?”
Having finished, he stared unblinkingly at Gu Huaiyu’s face, trying to catch even the slightest tremor. “How did you do it, Chancellor Gu?”
A strange silence suddenly descended upon the Chancellery.
Pei Jingyi withdrew his hand from the cage, his movements slow and deliberate. He, of course, knew the answer.
Gu Huaiyu had torn a hole in the rotting fabric of the imperial court, allowing a sliver of light to shine through. He had given hope to those in despair.
But he still wanted to hear Gu Huaiyu say it himself.
He wasn’t the only one.
The Iron Eagle Guards on duty silently straightened their backs. Their master was now a man held in high esteem. They had transformed from the Chancellor’s hounds into loyal servants of a great man; naturally, they too hungered to know where this glory had come from.
the clerk who had been copying documents stopped his pen. His breathing grew light.
Even the maids standing behind the desk and the servants sweeping the floor involuntarily tilted their heads, holding their breath to listen.
Yelü Chi had asked the question that had been swirling in everyone’s minds for a long time—one no one had ever dared to voice.
In private, people had guessed countless versions. Some said it was peerless political manipulation; others said it was the perfect redistribution of interests.
Some even whispered superstitiously that Chancellor Gu possessed a demonic art to bewitch souls, for how else could even the die-hard “Pure Stream” loyalists willingly switch to his side?
Gu Huaiyu’s fingers paused on the wooden box. His brow furrowed slightly as if he had heard something bizarre.
He looked up at Yelü Chi, his eyes so clear they were almost innocent, as if the other man had asked something as obvious as “Why is the sky blue?” or “Why is the grass green?”
“Did what?”
His tone was genuinely confused. His fingers unconsciously traced the edge of the box, his mind still preoccupied with the mutiny of the Provincial Army.
Yelü Chi was taken aback by the counter-question. He failed to capture any sign of deep-seated political maneuvering on Gu Huaiyu’s face. He repeated himself: “Why are you so respected and feared by all?”
Gu Huaiyu finally understood his meaning. He had thought the man was going to ask something important; he hadn’t expected such a stupid question. He answered dismissively, “This Chancellor simply does what needs to be done.”
Was there anything strange about that?
Why go through all this trouble just to ask that? A complete waste of his time.
