It was such a villain who appreciated Shen Jun’s talent, petitioning the late Emperor repeatedly until he finally plucked Shen Jun out of that mountain hollow and brought him back to the capital to rise through the ranks.
Now, at such a young age, he sat in the position of Director of the Secretariat, a high-ranking official of the third rank. Such favor was unmatched in the entire court.
Gu Huaiyu was reminding him not to be an ungrateful wolf. He crooked his wrist. “Come here.”
Shen Jun approached the desk. His gaze drifted toward the loose collar of the Chancellor’s silk robe, the sight of that pale skin making his eyes narrow. “My Lord, I have one more matter—”
Gu Huaiyu sat up and reached out to straighten Shen Jun’s official cap. “Wear it properly. Don’t let it fall again.”
The silk sleeve slid down his arm as he moved, revealing a small cinnabar mole on his wrist bone. It looked like a drop of blood frozen on snow.
Shen Jun instinctively held his breath, staring straight ahead at the desk. “My thanks, Lord Chancellor.”
Gu Huaiyu could guess what he wanted to say; it was about Pei Jingyi’s Nine Li blood. “What is it?”
Sure enough, Shen Jun lowered his voice. “The guards just reported that the assassins were exceptionally skilled—the Imperial Guard could hardly match them. More strangely, after one of them was wounded, the injury stopped bleeding and closed on its own. It is… unnatural.”
Gu Huaiyu knew the truth. The guards at the Zhao Prison were essentially Pei Jingyi’s “own people.” Pei Jingyi didn’t want to kill the innocent, so he had held back. If it had been the Eastern Liao assassins, Shen Jun would be reporting a massacre right now.
He turned his head, his expression unchanged. “Oh? Such a thing happened?”
Shen Jun whispered, “The guards say the assassin took a sword to the arm, yet there was no sustained bleeding. It is highly suspicious.”
He stopped there, offering no reckless deductions or excessive emotion.
Gu Huaiyu’s fingers twitched. The dominance of the Nine Li blood was manifesting even faster than the book had described. All that blood spilled in the Zhao Prison… what a waste.
“Go on.”
Gu Huaiyu’s voice was a low, honeyed rasp. He picked up his tea and took a deep sip.
Shen Jun watched as the Chancellor’s vivid tongue brushed against his lips. Under the candlelight, those moist, red lips looked as if they were stained with blood. His elegant, sharp Adam’s apple bobbed rapidly for some reason, like a beautiful demon who had caught the scent of flesh.
“I simply felt the matter was peculiar, and thus came to report it.”
Gu Huaiyu glanced at him. “Have men continue to watch. If there’s any sign of the rescuers, report back.”
Shen Jun bowed. “As you command.” He retreated to the door, paused, and said softly, “It is late. I hope My Lord takes care of his health.” With that, he turned and left.
As soon as Shen Jun stepped out, Liu Erlang entered. Seeing that Gu Huaiyu intended to work through the night again, he couldn’t help but speak up. “My Lord should listen to Lord Shen. You’ve been ill for days. The Empress Dowager has ordered the Imperial Physicians to take shifts, inquiring about your condition every hour.”
“His Majesty even visited the estate in disguise the day before yesterday to see you.”
At this, Liu Erlang walked to a nearby display shelf and picked up a small box, opening it carefully. “His Majesty left this by your pillow. He said this jade would keep you safe.”
Gu Huaiyu picked up the white jade pendant from the box. It featured auspicious clouds supporting nine soaring dragons—a treasure from the Emperor’s own sword. Seeing this jade was like seeing the Emperor himself.
He stroked the pendant before tossing it back into the box carelessly. “Little beast.”
If Shen Jun was the one plotting in the shadows to stab him in the back, then Yuan Zhuo, the Emperor, was the grandmaster moving the pieces on the board to deliver the final blow.
Shen Jun had endured for years, waiting for his chance to betray the patron who had supported him for seven years. Meanwhile, Yuan Zhuo acted the part of the obedient, harmless child while biding his time, plotting a total liquidation. In the end, after Gu Huaiyu’s death, Yuan Zhuo would show no mercy, seizing his assets and exterminating his entire clan to erase every trace of him from the world.
Liu Erlang pretended he hadn’t heard the insult. He said in a low voice, “When His Majesty left your room, his eyes were red. He looked as if he had been crying.”
Gu Huaiyu let out a cold, amused laugh.
To think of Yuan Zhuo at his bedside, eyes brimming with tears as he told his “Lord Chancellor” to take care, all while hating him to the bone and wishing to tear him into a thousand pieces. How could he not laugh at the sight of the Son of Heaven being forced to compromise so pathetically?
Yuan Zhuo’s mother had originally been a personal maid to the Empress Dowager. On the Empress Dowager’s birthday, Prince Rui had gotten drunk and taken the maid behind the artificial mountains in the imperial garden. Even three bowls of contraceptive tonic couldn’t wash away the child.
By the time the child was born, the deed was done. To save the royal family’s face, the Empress Dowager forced Prince Rui to take her as his consort. Not long after Yuan Zhuo was born, the consort passed away under mysterious circumstances.
Yuan Zhuo’s greatest sin was that he looked exactly like his mother, which enraged Prince Rui. Every time the Prince saw that face, he was reminded of his forced humiliation. He couldn’t stand the sight of the boy and treated his legitimate son as if he didn’t exist.
Back then, in the Prince Rui Estate, a young Gu Huaiyu had seen how pitiful Yuan Zhuo was. He had taught the boy to read and write, taught him how to scheme against his own father, and eventually secured the title of Heir Apparent for him.
Gu Huaiyu was only ten years older than Yuan Zhuo; he had raised him like a son. It would only be right for Yuan Zhuo to call him “Father.”
Little beast… parricide will surely invite heaven’s wrath.
