Gu Huaiyu toyed with a green jade thumb ring, offering a smile that was dangerously dazzling.
Pei Jingyi had caught a glimpse of him from afar at the drill grounds before, but seeing him up close, he realized the man was so beautiful it was difficult to look away. He recovered quickly, maintaining his calm. “Those are mere exaggerations. I am not so divine as the stories claim.”
Gu Huaiyu spun the ring lazily with a porcelain-white finger. “Is that so? Then is it true or false that your archery is legendary?”
Pei Jingyi gave an ambiguous answer. “Half true, half false.”
Gu Huaiyu seemed to find this interesting. He sat up straighter. “Since we are all gathered here today, why not let me witness it for myself? Would the General be willing to show us a trick?”
Pei Jingyi sensed the underlying malice in the request, yet he felt a surge of competitive spirit. “Since the Lord Chancellor is interested, I would be honored to oblige.”
Gu Huaiyu knew he wouldn’t refuse. He tapped his finger against the table in front of him.
A small eunuch scurried to his side, and Gu Huaiyu leaned over to whisper a few instructions.
A moment later, the eunuch carefully led out a magnificent black horse. The beast was pitch-black from head to hoof, its coat glossy and its muscles rippling. Its eyes, like copper bells, flashed with a wild, untamable light. It snorted hotly, tossing its mane in agitation. It was clearly a difficult beast to handle.
Another eunuch approached Pei Jingyi, holding an intricately carved bow. “General Pei, please proceed to the drill field.”
Pei Jingyi glanced at the horse, then turned his gaze back to Gu Huaiyu. “My current attire is unsuitable for riding and archery. May I borrow the Lord Chancellor’s belt to tie back my sleeves?”
Yuan Zhuo’s brows knit together, his tone suddenly turning cold. “In that case, you might as well borrow mine.”
Gu Huaiyu felt that borrowing the Emperor’s belt would be even more inappropriate. He didn’t mind Pei Jingyi’s provocation. He leisurely untied his gold-threaded crane belt and tossed it to a nearby eunuch. “General, do not disappoint me.”
Yuan Zhuo’s eyes darkened as they fell on Gu Huaiyu’s now-unbound waist. Without the belt, the Chancellor’s slender frame was draped only in the flowing silk of his wide sleeves.
The Emperor’s fingers curled inside his own sleeve, his voice dropping low. “What are you waiting for? Go fetch a new belt for the Lord Chancellor immediately!”
The eunuch scrambled to obey.
Pei Jingyi took the purple silk belt from the servant. A faint, elegant fragrance wafted from it—the exact same scent that clung to Gu Huaiyu.
He narrowed his eyes, using the silk to bind the sleeve of his right arm tightly. Then, he turned and walked toward the black horse.
The stallion, named Dark Cloud, shifted its weight restlessly, chewing on its bit with annoyance. As Pei Jingyi approached, its ears pinned back, twitching in alarm. Animals had sharp instincts; they could sense a level of danger that humans could not.
Pei Jingyi stroked its mane, whispering a low word of praise. “A fine horse.”
Dark Cloud’s agitated movements stilled. Its tail stopped swishing, and it became unnervingly quiet, as if subdued by an invisible force. Pei Jingyi grabbed the reins and vaulted into the saddle with a single, fluid motion, light as a swallow.
Dark Cloud was the fiercest horse in the palace—arrogant, wild, and unrideable. It had thrown many a trainer and was infamous for biting and kicking. Yet now, it was strangely docile. It stood as calm as a lamb, allowing Pei Jingyi to take the reins and guide it forward.
Yuan Zhuo leaned toward Gu Huaiyu’s ear, whispering, “Why is Dark Cloud so obedient?”
Gu Huaiyu arched an eyebrow. Even horses, it seemed, knew when they had met their match.
On the vast drill field, a eunuch gave a sharp cry. Thirty gray pigeons were released, their dark wings momentarily blotting out the sun.
Pei Jingyi squeezed the horse’s flanks, and the black stallion shot forward like a bolt of lightning.
The quiver hung at the horse’s side. Despite the jarring gallop, Pei Jingyi sat as steady as a mountain. He reached back, pulling several arrows at once and nocking them with ease.
One arrow followed another in a blur of speed. The heavy thud of pigeons hitting the ground was incessant, like rolls of thunder.
“Fifteen!” the eunuch cried out, his eyes struggling to keep up.
The surrounding guards stood agape. The legends of the “three arrows that quelled Mount Wu” were clearly no exaggeration.
Pei Jingyi seemed almost casual. The bow and arrows were like extensions of his own body. He fired with effortless precision, making it look as though the frantic pigeons were simply flying into his path to die.
Yuan Zhuo watched with unblinking eyes. He finally understood why his late father had insisted on keeping this man in the capital. Such a fierce general—if not watched every moment, how could any ruler sleep in peace?
“Twenty-five!”
The eunuch’s voice was hoarse, yet he continued to shout the count.
In the glow of the setting sun, Pei Jingyi suddenly hauled back on the reins. Dark Cloud let out a piercing neigh, rearing high on its hind legs. In that same instant, Pei Jingyi clamped his legs tight and leaned back until he was nearly flat against the horse’s spine, his incredible core strength holding him steady.
He drew his final arrow and loosed it. The shaft didn’t head for a bird—it screamed toward the canopy!
Whiz!
The sound of the arrow slicing the air was like tearing silk, shattering the silence of the field.
“My Lord!”
The Iron Eagle Guards cried out in horror, rushing toward Gu Huaiyu like a tide.
Gu Huaiyu had just raised a silver cup to his lips. The wine pot on the table before him exploded. A mixture of pigeon blood and goat’s milk wine sprayed everywhere, splashing across his face.
A few droplets of the white liquid clung to his slightly parted lips, looking as though someone had carelessly smeared a layer of cream there.
The red and white mess against his pale, jade-like skin created a scene that was both chaotic and strangely erotic.
The force of the arrow had pinned a pigeon directly to Gu Huaiyu’s table. It was only inches away; had the aim been any different, the arrow would have taken the Chancellor’s life.
“Huaiyu-gege!”
Yuan Zhuo rushed over, grabbing Gu Huaiyu’s wrist. Forgetting all decorum, he used his own sleeve to wipe the man’s face. “Are you hurt? Where are you hurt?”
Gu Huaiyu’s throat moved in a shallow swallow. He touched his wet, cold cheek. “I am fine. Your Majesty need not worry.”
“My apologies, Lord Chancellor!” Pei Jingyi called out. He cantered over and dismounted with practiced grace, casually hanging the bow on the saddle.
He stepped closer, his expression composed, though his tone held a mock-apologetic edge. “This bow was far too light. I am not used to such a weapon, and my aim slipped for a moment. I hope I didn’t frighten you, Lord Chancellor?”
As he spoke, he stared at the milky smudge on Gu Huaiyu’s lips, his eyes glinting with a subtle, mocking playfulness.
