It wasn’t just generals who won wars. If the Chancellor was at the front, he was telling everyone: This isn’t you dying for your country; it’s me risking my life alongside you. That was a weight that could make an entire army fight to the death.
Pei Jingyi’s throat moved convulsively, but he said nothing. He knew Gu Huaiyu’s health better than anyone. The Cold Poison was still there; the man coughed blood whenever he was too emotional. If he went to the front and anything went wrong, he wouldn’t survive.
But he couldn’t stop him.
A soft laugh escaped Pei Jingyi’s throat. He only had himself to blame for having such high standards—falling for a phoenix in the ninth heaven rather than a common sparrow he could keep in a cage. Since he couldn’t reach the sky, he would simply have to spend his life chasing after it.
“This official, Shen Jun, wishes to accompany the Lord Chancellor on the expedition.”
Shen Jun stepped forward. Having followed Gu Huaiyu for so many years, he knew the man’s temper. He didn’t waste a word on persuasion; he simply bowed. “I can look after the Lord Chancellor’s daily needs.”
Even if he hadn’t volunteered, Gu Huaiyu wouldn’t have left him behind. A man as calculating as Shen Jun was too dangerous to leave in the capital alone. He nodded immediately. “Good.”
Yuan Zhuo finally broke. His fists clenched beneath his sleeves, a forced, trembling smile on his face. “One after another, you all flock to the Chancellor’s side. Are you even my ministers anymore?”
He tried to sound lighthearted, as if joking, but his knuckles were white enough to snap.
Gu Huaiyu’s eyes narrowed. He’s becoming wary of me.
Wei Qingya burst out laughing, only for Dong Danyu to pull his sleeve. “Master Wei, what are you laughing at?”
“I’m laughing at someone’s lack of romantic sense.” Wei Qingya leaned in and whispered, “The falling flowers yearn to follow the flowing water, but the water flows on, heartless and unheeding~”
Dong Danyu didn’t understand the poetic jab. He whispered back worriedly, “The Emperor is afraid the Chancellor has won too many hearts.”
Gu Huaiyu was tired and had no energy for these power games. He adjusted his sleeves and ended the session. “Are the people by my side not all Your Majesty’s ministers? If there is nothing else, we are dismissed.”
Yuan Zhuo’s fingers throbbed with pain. He could only nod with a smile. “Dismissed.”
His gaze swept over the people surrounding Gu Huaiyu—the old flames, the new favorites. Who were these nobodies? His heart ached with resentment.
The officials dispersed, leaving the hall empty, save for one figure: Prince Xian.
Sensing the Emperor’s turmoil, Prince Xian stepped forward and whispered, “If Your Majesty is troubled, why not let me accompany you out of the palace to clear your mind?”
Yuan Zhuo shook his head. He walked down the steps and stopped at the palace gates. The rising sun cast his lonely shadow long across the floor.
“When will I ever…” He stared at the blinding sun, unable to finish his sentence, his heart full of grievance. I can’t even be his close attendant!
He didn’t say it aloud, but Prince Xian was no fool. After a moment of thought, he said meaningfully, “Your Majesty and the Chancellor knew each other back when you were both insignificant. That bond is something others cannot compare to. To me, those others are merely passing travelers. Your Majesty is the only one truly in the Chancellor’s heart.”
In the deep corridors outside the palace gates, Pei Jingyi had taken a detour to relieve himself. As he was leaving, he heard a voice behind him.
“Jingyi.”
Nie Jin stood by a vermilion pillar. The two men faced each other from a few paces away, their expressions unreadable.
After a few seconds of silence, Nie Jin’s gaze fell on the earring Pei Jingyi wore. “Weren’t you going to take Gu Huaiyu’s life?”
If he hadn’t brought it up, Pei Jingyi would have almost forgotten. He crossed his arms and sneered. “And didn’t Master Nie say he was going to arrest him?”
Nie Jin choked on his words. He could judge the most complex cases and navigate court politics, but he couldn’t untangle these threads of affection.
Pei Jingyi flicked his earring, a careless smirk playing on his lips. “You can see it too, can’t you? This time, I’ve fallen completely.” He paused, his smile turning self-deprecating. “I’ve lost my heart to Gu Huaiyu. I’m willing to be his servant, to do whatever he asks.”
He had said similar words to Nie Jin once before, but back then, it was with biting sarcasm. Now… it was the truth.
Nie Jin’s expression turned solemn. “He does not belong to you. He belongs to the people, to Great Chen—”
“And to you?” Pei Jingyi’s smile vanished, the casual air replaced by a cold, sharp intensity.
Nie Jin fell silent. Silence was the answer.
Pei Jingyi’s expression soured. He had only been testing him, but the bastard actually felt that way.
“After today, our brotherhood is over,” he said flatly, his eyes flashing with a ruthless, bloody edge. “The next time I see you, I’m going to beat the life out of you.”
He turned and walked away without looking back.
Outside the palace gates, Gu Huaiyu’s carriage waited quietly, surrounded by the Iron Eagle Guard. Pei Jingyi walked with a furious pace and, without a word, yanked the curtain aside and climbed in.
Gu Huaiyu was leaning against a soft cushion, reading a book. A snow-white cloak was draped over his knees, and he wore only his crimson court robes. The morning light through the window softened his features, erasing the sharp edge he held in the throne room.
He gave Pei Jingyi a lazy glance before returning to his book.
“Chancellor.”
Pei Jingyi reached out and grabbed his hand, his palm burning hot. “I want to show you something.”
Gu Huaiyu looked up, his eyes asking: What?
Instead of an answer, his hand was guided downward, pressed firmly against a place that should not be named.
“Chancellor, look closely.” Pei Jingyi pinned his wrist down, preventing him from pulling away. His expression was as grave and serious as if he were presenting a formal report. “Feel it for yourself. Is it really as… ‘useless’ as you claimed?”
