He leaned in one last time. “It would be ten times more pleasurable than if the Chancellor did it himself.”
With that, he snatched the bloody earring from the cushions and tucked it into his breast pocket.
Pei Jingyi pushed open the carriage door behind him, braced his elbow on the shaft, and leaped down. As his feet hit the ground, he didn’t forget to offer a formal parting: “This official takes his leave.”
Gu Huaiyu closed his eyes and leaned against the soft pillows, taking a deep breath.
A vulgar, low-born beast.
Night fell, and the Grand Preceptor’s estate was deathly silent.
Maidservants walked through the corridors with light steps, not even daring to let their shoes click against the floor.
No candles were lit in the study.
Grand Preceptor Dong sat on the floor, his white hair disheveled. His official robes lay discarded in a heap, revealing the faded, laundered inner garment beneath.
He tilted his head back, his clouded eyes piercing the darkness to stare fixedly at the rafters, where a length of white silk shimmered faintly in the moonlight.
Everyone in the court knew the truth: the Pure Stream faction was spent.
Gu Huaiyu’s seizure of military power was now a certainty. Once the Tiger Tally was in his hand, there would be no turning back.
As soon as the war with Eastern Liao began, military merit would pile up, and the hearts of the people would follow. At that point, the Chancellor’s power would be so absolute that no one could restrain him.
When that time came, how could Gu Huaiyu possibly spare the old foxes who had opposed him at every turn?
Given Gu Huaiyu’s vicious methods, if they fell into his hands, they would be lucky to leave behind an intact corpse.
“Mentor.”
Qin Zijin pushed the door open and entered. His face paled at the sight of the white silk hanging from the beam, but he didn’t say a word.
He reached out to help Grand Preceptor Dong up, but the old man waved him away. His eyes were cloudy, yet his mind was sharp. “Go.”
“Listen to your teacher. Submit your resignation tomorrow and return to your hometown. Never set foot in the capital again, lest you fall victim to Gu Yu’s poisonous hands.”
Qin Zijin adjusted his robes and knelt beside him. He looked at the broken old man, his expression strangely calm. “I will not leave.”
After a pause, he added, “Even if you do not plan for yourself, you should think of your son.”
“He is young and impulsive. He lost his way and was coaxed into becoming that Gu the Cat’s lapdog. What will become of him later?”
At the mention of Dong Danyu, Grand Preceptor Dong’s eyes slowly regained focus. He finally forced a breath. “Why have you come?”
Qin Zijin supported the old man’s arm as they stood up. Seeing there was no one else around, he spoke without reservation. “Does Mentor truly believe Gu the Cat’s story about the ‘Late Emperor’s Secret Edict’?”
Grand Preceptor Dong gave a bitter smile and shook his head. How could he not know that Gu Huaiyu had forged the edict? But Gu Huaiyu held all the cards; even if one had suspicions, one could not speak them aloud.
Qin Zijin glanced at him with a hint of mockery in his eyes, though his tone remained level. “After the assembly today, I went to the Imperial Academy of Medicine.”
He pulled a slip of paper from his sleeve and handed it to the Grand Preceptor. “I reviewed the medical records from the day of the Late Emperor’s passing.”
Grand Preceptor Dong held it up to the moonlight. The paper read: Hour of the Dog, third quarter. His Majesty is drifting in and out of consciousness, repeatedly calling out, ‘I want to see Mother.’
It was common for a dying man to call for his mother.
Grand Preceptor Dong looked thoughtfully at Qin Zijin. “What are you implying, Zijin?”
Qin Zijin smiled slightly, carefully tucking the paper away. “Though Grand Empress Dowager Chen was not on good terms with the Late Emperor, they were still flesh and blood. If the Late Emperor wanted to see his mother on his deathbed, would she really have refused?”
Grand Preceptor Dong’s eyes sparked with light. He grabbed Qin Zijin’s arm. “Are you saying that Gu Yu wasn’t the only one at the Late Emperor’s bedside? That the Grand Empress Dowager was there too?”
“Emperor Rui passed at the end of the Hour of the Pig.”
Qin Zijin slowly withdrew his arm, his voice neither hurried nor agitated. “Based on the timeline, it is highly probable that the Grand Empress Dowager was present.”
He paused, then asked with a chilling smile, “Would the Grand Empress Dowager tolerate Gu the Cat forging an edict?”
Obviously not.
Though Grand Empress Dowager Chen had devoted herself to Buddhism and ignored politics, she was still the Late Emperor’s mother and Yuan Zhuo’s grandmother. She held immense prestige throughout the empire.
If she knew Gu Huaiyu had dared to forge an edict, no matter how detached she was, she would never allow a treacherous minister to tamper with the Late Emperor’s final words.
The only logical conclusion: she didn’t know.
That was why Gu Huaiyu dared to be so flagrant—he was gambling everything on a desperate throw.
“Do you know the Grand Empress Dowager’s whereabouts?” Grand Preceptor Dong asked, his expression shifting.
The Grand Empress Dowager was not in the palace, nor was she at any of the villas. No one knew where she was staying.
