Pei Jingyi stepped forward at the perfect moment, snatching the tray away. He smiled with mock consideration. “Such a heavy object… we wouldn’t want to crush Your Majesty’s delicate little frame.”
Delicate?!
Yuan Zhuo gritted his teeth, cursing the “old dog” a thousand times in his head, yet he forced a smile onto his face.
Since Huaiyu Gege had accepted the robes, it meant he agreed to return. This joy alone was enough to suppress all his irritation.
Gu Huaiyu’s gaze swept over the officials standing solemnly outside the hall. He suddenly lowered his voice. “Does Your Majesty now believe why Prince Xian had to die?”
“I believe it.”
Yuan Zhuo stared straight at him, whispering his heart out in a low voice. “At the time, I was blinded by rage… I regretted it by the morning session the very next day.”
It wasn’t just rage, really; it was that he couldn’t stand Gu Huaiyu looking at him like he was a child.
Gu Huaiyu saw through it and gave a small nod. “And how does Your Majesty find the taste of personal rule?”
“Hard. Very hard,” Yuan Zhuo blurted out.
For these past twenty days, he had worked from dawn to dusk reviewing memorials, often missing his meals. He was exhausted in body and soul.
And that was only twenty days.
His Huaiyu Gege had endured this for nine long years.
Gu Huaiyu’s brow arched slightly. Holding absolute power isn’t enjoyable? What’s so hard about it?
“In that case…” Gu Huaiyu’s lips curled. “It would be churlish to refuse.”
He stood up, his white sleeves fluttering. “Yun Niang, come with me to change.”
Only Yuan Zhuo and Pei Jingyi remained in the hall. Outside, the officials exchanged looks, their very breathing becoming hushed.
Yuan Zhuo tucked his hands behind his back, breaking the silence first. “General Pei has worked hard taking care of the Chancellor these days. I should reward the General properly.”
Pei Jingyi’s gaze lazily swept over the Emperor, that loose smile still on his lips. “We’re family. It’s no trouble at all.”
Yuan Zhuo’s brow twitched imperceptibly. “I don’t recall when General Pei changed his surname to Gu.”
Pei Jingyi’s smile deepened, his voice sounding casual yet tinged with a certain chill. “Whether I change my name to Gu, or the Chancellor changes his to Pei…”
He paused meaningfully. “My late father would be quite pleased in the afterlife.”
What father wouldn’t be happy that his son found a wife like this?
The corner of Yuan Zhuo’s tightened mouth twitched. Though he knew he shouldn’t ask, he couldn’t help but say, “I don’t understand the General’s meaning.”
“Does Your Majesty truly want me to speak plainly?”
Pei Jingyi looked toward the officials outside. He could see several pairs of hostile eyes staring at him; he had clearly provoked the masses.
He grinned without a care. “I’m only afraid that if I speak plainly, Your Majesty will go back to the palace in tears.”
Yuan Zhuo’s face was like still water. “Speak clearly.”
“Then I shall not hide it—” Pei Jingyi crossed his arms and sighed. His voice wasn’t loud, but it was just enough for the front row of Gu Faction officials to hear. “The Chancellor and I have already shared a private understanding and pledged our lives to one another.”
He didn’t specify who was “giving” himself to whom.
A sudden clamor erupted outside the hall.
The officials were shocked, but more than that, they felt a complex mix of emotions. While Pei Jingyi’s preference for men was enough to make people stare, if the object of his affection was Gu Huaiyu, it somehow felt… logical.
After all, who could not love Gu Huaiyu?
Xie Shaoling’s jaw was clenched so tight it hurt, his eyes turning red as he endured.
Shen Jun’s face was as dark as iron, his lips pressed into a thin line.
Wei Qingya had originally intended to watch the drama unfold, but now his smile had vanished, looking as if he had swallowed a fly.
Nie Jin, standing among the ranks of the Gu Faction, squinted as he studied Pei Jingyi, trying to discern how much of the statement was truth and how much was lie.
The one suffering the most was Yuan Zhuo.
The Emperor’s hands were clenched so hard inside his sleeves they throbbed. He naturally didn’t believe Gu Huaiyu would pledge his life to this “old dog.”
But for the first time, someone had dared to publicly profess their feelings for Gu Huaiyu. Hearing it so bluntly made his blood boil with murderous intent.
Just then, the light rustle of fabric came from the back of the hall.
Gu Huaiyu had changed into his crimson robes embroidered with pythons. He wore a seven-beamed ceremonial cap—a rarity for him. His posture was elegant and his bearing upright.
He rarely appeared in such formal attire, but in this moment, he looked like a paragon of a famous minister stepped out of an ancient painting.
He sensed the bizarre atmosphere in the hall, but he merely assumed they were all intimidated by his return to power, feeling a cold sneer in his heart.
Under the watchful eyes of the crowd, Pei Jingyi walked toward him. He dropped to one knee and smoothed out a non-existent wrinkle on Gu Huaiyu’s hem. When he looked up, he grinned, flashing his canines. “Huaiyu, you look best in these clothes.”
It wasn’t the first time he had used the name, so Gu Huaiyu simply gave a casual “Mhm” and continued walking forward.
Yet that single “Huaiyu” struck the officials like a bolt of lightning.
In the court of Great Chen, who dared to call the Chancellor by his courtesy name? Even the Son of Heaven only whispered it in private.
And now, not only had Pei Jingyi said it publicly, but the Chancellor had actually… answered?!
Gu Huaiyu walked out of the hall and noticed Yuan Zhuo still standing there blankly, the light in his eyes dim.
Seeing him turn back, the Emperor forced a smile and stepped forward. “I shall return to court alongside my minister.”
Gu Huaiyu noticed the boy’s low spirits and extended his arm. “Come.”
Yuan Zhuo’s eyes instantly lit up. He rushed forward and tightly gripped that hand, their fingers intertwining. He refused to let go, the damp sweat of his palm pressing against Gu Huaiyu’s skin. His voice was so soft only the two of them could hear: “Huaiyu Gege…”
Gu Huaiyu gave a small nod and led him steadily through the dense ranks of the officials.
Pei Jingyi felt extremely annoyed. He cursed the “little brat” under his breath and strode after them.
The composed mask Shen Jun usually wore was on the verge of shattering; he gave a self-deprecating laugh that sounded bone-chillingly cold.
Xie Shaoling was different. As the Top Scholar who had recently enjoyed the Chancellor’s favor, seeing Gu Huaiyu pass by without so much as a glance was more than he could bear.
Beside them, the usual smile was gone from Wei Qingya’s face as he stared thoughtfully at Gu Huaiyu’s retreating figure.
Pei Jingyi’s “Huaiyu” was like a boulder dropped into a deep pool.
Who could stay still now? Not only had Pei Jingyi taken the spot at the Chancellor’s side, but he had even publicly stolen the privilege of using his courtesy name.
If they continued to hide their feelings, they feared they wouldn’t even get a sip of the leftover soup.
