Gu Huaiyu didn’t really want to deal with him. He pulled his sleeve down to cover his arm and leaned the back of his head against the carriage wall, closing his eyes to rest.
Pei Jingyi took the opportunity to stare at him shamelessly. Sunlight filtered through the gaps in the curtains, dancing over the light brown mole at the corner of Gu Huaiyu’s eye. The sight made Pei’s heart itch with an unbearable restlessness.
Outside, the street suddenly grew lively. It seemed they were passing through a marketplace, as the clamor of the crowd drifted in, alongside the distinct voice of a storyteller shouting to a captivated audience.
“That Chancellor Gu is the Star of Literature descended to the mortal realm!”
“At fifteen, he penned the Treatise on Statecraft—every word a gem, every line overflowing with brilliance!”
“Even when the entire court impeached him, he didn’t deign to offer a single word of defense. Tell me, how many men in this world possess such spirit?!”
“For Great Chen to have such a Chancellor is a blessing from our ancestors—”
The wheels rumbled over the cobblestone road. The sound of hooves, storytelling, and street hawkers blended into a rising and falling tide of noise that reached their ears.
Gu Huaiyu’s lashes remained lowered as if he truly were asleep.
Pei Jingyi, however, felt his heart thumping wildly just looking at him. The lingering fragrance of Gu Huaiyu’s breath still seemed to rest on his tongue. He pressed his tongue against the roof of his mouth to savor the phantom taste, feeling a sense of profound satisfaction.
This man, who looked like a Transcendental Immortal, would eventually belong to the Pei family.
The Pei ancestral graves must truly be emitting auspicious smoke for him to encounter such a stroke of luck.
Though Gu Huaiyu’s eyes were shut, he was acutely aware of that scorching gaze fixed upon him.
In his mind, he cursed the man for being a shameless, base rogue. Just wait until we return to the villa; see how I deal with you then.
As the night deepened, the carriage finally pulled into the villa.
Lately, Pei Jingyi had been sleeping on the floor in Gu Huaiyu’s room under the pretext of “guarding his master.” By now, how could Gu Huaiyu not know what he was actually scheming?
However, Pei Jingyi still had some sense of propriety. He hadn’t tried to crawl into the bed at night, nor had he repeated those filthy actions in front of Gu Huaiyu again. Thus, Gu Huaiyu simply turned a blind eye.
After all, having such a powerful general guarding him in an unfamiliar estate did allow him to sleep more soundly.
The candlelight flickered. Gu Huaiyu, finished with his nightly ablutions, sat on the edge of the bed and watched Pei Jingyi efficiently lay out the bedding.
“When does the Lord Chancellor intend to return to court?”
Pei Jingyi knelt on one knee upon his pallet. He looked up and gave a soft “tsk,” his tone carrying an indefinable nuance. “Currently, every official in the capital is hoping for your return.”
Gu Huaiyu paused while removing his hair crown, letting his black hair cascade down his shoulders like a silken waterfall.
He wasn’t in any rush to return. He wanted to use this opportunity to test the capabilities of his subordinates. These were men who would eventually have to stand on their own; he couldn’t personally handle every single matter forever.
But clearly, the choice was being taken out of his hands.
Over the past few days, a constant stream of officials had come to pay their respects. People kept watch at the gates day and night. Today, he had been forced to take the back entrance just to get home.
It was more bustling here than at the Chancellor’s Estate.
His lips curved slightly as he tilted his chin. “What is the difference between being back at court and being here?”
In the end, the reins of Great Chen had always been in his hands.
Whether in the halls of power or in the wilderness, the memorials marked with vermilion ink would still be delivered to the villa by the wagonload, and the officials would still have to wait bitterly at his door.
Pei Jingyi skillfully removed Gu Huaiyu’s boots and socks, restraining himself from taking even a small liberty. “Here, the Lord Chancellor is the ‘Chosen One’ in the hearts of the people.”
He paused for a moment, his gaze meeting Gu Huaiyu’s as his voice dropped an octave. “But returning to court… that would make you the Regent in name and fact.”
Gu Huaiyu gave a light scoff. The man was clever, perhaps a bit too clever.
Resigning had been a dangerous gambit. It wasn’t to escape punishment or to bide his time in obscurity; it was to shatter the two-hundred-year-old bureaucratic shackles of Great Chen.
The position of Chancellor? It was a mere title.
What he wanted was for power itself to become the law. He wanted the people of this land to believe in one fundamental truth: the name Gu Huaiyu was order itself.
Making the entire court kneel and beg for his return was far more elegant than leading an army to force a coup.
The title of “Regent” had to be something the officials requested with tears in their eyes, something the masses clamored for with thunderous cheers. He wanted them to hold that supreme power in their hands and offer it to him, pleading for him to accept it.
Only then could he turn the echoes of his youthful ideals into a concrete reality, step by step.
Thinking of this, he narrowed his eyes and offered a warning: “Does General Pei know how Yang Xiu died?”
Note: Yang Xiu was a historical figure executed because he was too good at guessing his superior’s hidden thoughts.
Pei Jingyi licked his lips, looking eager to answer. “Did he die of pleasure?”
“…”
