Chapter 76: High Class Deserves a Low Life Part 2

If anyone truly earned a sliver of his regret, it was Grand Preceptor Dong. That old man had sat firmly in his position for thirty years; he possessed genuine talent and capability. It was simply a pity that he had spent all his cunning on factional infighting and schemes. If he had applied even a fraction of that focus to governing the nation…

Gu Huaiyu removed the book from his face and gave a slow yawn. “I would, however, like to see Grand Preceptor Dong off.”

Pei Jingyi raised an eyebrow. “The Chancellor is generous indeed. Aren’t you afraid the old fox will try one last desperate strike?”

Gu Huaiyu slanted a glance at him, then slapped the book against Pei’s chest. “Don’t I have General Pei here to protect me?”

Pei Jingyi felt a sudden itch in his heart from that casual remark. As if it were the most natural thing in the world, he caught Gu Huaiyu’s hand and gave the palm a light squeeze. “When does the Chancellor intend to depart?”

Gu Huaiyu pulled his hand back, set the book aside, and stood up. “Now. Grand Preceptor Dong is being exiled to Liangzhou tomorrow. He likely won’t be coming back in this lifetime.”

By the time they entered the city, it was nearly dusk. A simple green-clothed carriage stopped quietly outside the Ministry of Justice’s prison.

The prison was perpetually starved of light, its walls mottled with patches of damp moss. Before even reaching the gates, one could smell the scent of mildew in the air.

The Minister of Justice had already heard the news and was waiting at the entrance. Upon seeing Gu Huaiyu, he stepped forward hurriedly. “This official has ordered the torches to be prepared. This way, Chancellor, please follow me—”

The bailiffs were well-trained in the rules; not a single one raised their head, all of them acting as though they hadn’t seen the “Chancellor in the Mountains.”

The cells were bone-chillingly cold. Pei Jingyi shook out a greatcoat he had brought along, skillfully draping it over Gu Huaiyu and tying the fastenings. Over these past few days, his care for Gu Huaiyu had become increasingly natural.

The man who, only yesterday, had been an elder statesman of three reigns and the leader of the Pure Stream faction, was now stripped of his black hat and court robes. Clad in tattered prisoner’s garb, he looked gaunt and withered. He sat atop a pile of filthy, damp straw, his beard matted and hanging loose. It was as if he had aged ten years overnight. Where was the intimidating aura of the Grand Preceptor who once commanded the bows of the entire court?

Hearing footsteps, a flicker of hope crossed his clouded eyes, only to dim instantly when he saw the visitor. “Has Chancellor Gu come specifically to mock this old man?”

Gu Huaiyu sat unhurriedly in the chair a bailiff brought for him. Pei Jingyi stood behind him, arms crossed over the back of the chair. The snow fox greatcoat began to slip from Gu Huaiyu’s shoulder, but Pei caught it and tucked it back around him.

“Precisely,” Gu Huaiyu admitted candidly, surveying the Grand Preceptor. “I truly wanted to see what the Preceptor looked like in the end.”

Reddening with rage, Dong’s beard trembled violently. “This old man merely made the mistake of trusting that charlatan Qin Zijin! If not for that—”

Gu Huaiyu let out a short, mocking laugh, pressing a finger to his nose.

“Why does the Chancellor laugh?” Dong’s expression soured further as he glared. “Am I truly that loathsome in your eyes?”

Gu Huaiyu suddenly leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. The dim candlelight spilled across his pale, refined profile. He parted his thin lips. “What I find most revolting are you sanctimonious old relics. You sit in your high halls, cloaked in power, and command the youth to march to their deaths in the name of ‘integrity’ and ‘justice.’

“You speak with such passion, telling them they are the backbone of the literati, the pillars of the state, and martyrs for the Way… Hmm… that is how you coaxed Xie Shaoling, isn’t it?”

Gu Huaiyu’s question left no room for doubt. He followed it with a scoff. “Do you even believe those high-sounding words yourself?”

The color drained and flooded back into Dong’s face in turns. His lips worked, but he could find no word of rebuttal.

Seeing him like this, Gu Huaiyu felt a faint sigh in his heart. “Someone, bring the Preceptor some tea.”

He smoothed his sleeves, his tone turning flat. “I came to see you today because your son is currently under my Chancellery. Since you are departing for Liangzhou and will likely never return, I came to see you off on his behalf.”

The words sent a jolt through the old man. The tea cup he had just received crashed to the floor. “What are you going to do to my son!”

Seeing his terror, Gu Huaiyu couldn’t help but smile. “What is the hurry?”

He leaned back, his head happening to rest against Pei Jingyi’s solid arm. “Your son will live better than you—he will live with his head held high. He won’t have to be like your pawns, coaxed into dying for a few empty words.”

Grand Preceptor Dong’s face was as ghastly as it could get. In a lifetime of service, he had never heard such words.