Gu Huaiyu leaned back against a brocade pillow, his body loosely draped in snow-white fox fur, a gilded hand-warmer resting on his lap.
On the small table before him sat a wooden box, filled with neatly folded slips of paper.
A cat’s ears were indeed sharp, but that was because this particular cat possessed an omnipresent web of informants. From the personal attendants surrounding the Son of Heaven and the concubines in royal manors to the lowly clerks serving provincial governors—all of them were eyes and ears cultivated with his cold, hard silver.
In the Great Chen Dynasty, not a single rustle of wind or grass could escape his notice.
He picked up a slip with his fingertips and scanned it under the bright sunlight filtering through the carriage curtains. It read: “Last night at the third mark of the Hour of the Dog, Grand Preceptor Dong received guests in his study. Censor-in-Chief Cao Can arrived first…”
Gu Huaiyu’s gaze lingered on Xie Shaoling’s name. A talent he had once craved for his own service had now become a henchman for Grand Preceptor Dong.
“A pity,” he sighed softly.
He held the slip of paper close to the gilded heater. A tongue of flame instantly devoured the note, reducing it to ash.
The next slip came from the palace: “His Majesty has bestowed the Golden Fish Pouch upon Qin Zijin and promoted him to Hanlin Academician Reader. He is to enter the palace every three days to lecture on the Treatise on Statecraft.”
Was Yuan Zhuo trying to prop up the Pure Stream faction to play a game of checks and balances against him?
The boy wasn’t very old, but he certainly had plenty of schemes.
“Little beast,” Gu Huaiyu cursed under his breath, consigned that slip to the fire as well.
Suddenly, the rapid thunder of hooves shook the ground, making the carriage curtains tremble.
An Iron Eagle Guard shouted sharply, “Protect the Chancellor!”
Gu Huaiyu arched an eyebrow. Just as he was about to lift the curtain, a tall figure suddenly descended, blocking out the light.
Pei Jingyi jerked the reins violently. His steed let out a piercing neigh as it reared up on its hind legs, its hooves nearly coming down on the carriage frame before being reigned in at the very last inch.
The horse panted heavily, its hot breath stirring the curtains.
“Lord Chancellor, my horse was spooked.”
Pei Jingyi held the reins with one hand and leaned down. His nose was almost touching the gap in the curtains. “The beast didn’t startle the Lord Chancellor, did it?”
Gu Huaiyu knew perfectly well the man was looking for trouble. He leaned against his heater, his eyes remaining closed. “Do you truly think I am so easily fooled?”
Pei Jingyi let out a low chuckle but didn’t answer. Instead, he asked, “Who was the Lord Chancellor cursing just now?”
Gu Huaiyu had spoken in a whisper, yet Pei Jingyi had heard him from such a distance. Gu Huaiyu couldn’t help but sneer. “Is General Pei part dog?”
“The Lord Chancellor flatters me.” Pei Jingyi leaned an inch closer to the curtain. “My nose is even sharper than my ears.”
He sniffed slightly, his nose nearly brushing the gauze. “The scent on the Lord Chancellor is quite fragrant.”
Gu Huaiyu continued to rest with his eyes shut. “Is that so?”
Pei Jingyi’s breath practically drifted into the carriage. “Mellow agarwood mixed with wormwood… sweet but not cloying. You’re more fragrant than a young maiden, Lord Chancellor.”
Only then did Gu Huaiyu open his eyes. “If General Pei is feeling the stirrings of spring, I wouldn’t mind choosing a marriage for you.”
“There’s no need for that.” Pei Jingyi pulled the reins more provocatively. “I don’t like the young maidens of the capital.”
Gu Huaiyu lacked energy and replied listlessly, “Oh?”
Pei Jingyi stared at the thin figure behind the gauze curtain and suddenly lowered his voice. “The maidens of the capital look fragile and weak, but they are ruthless and full of poison. I can’t afford to provoke them.”
“At least the General has some self-awareness.”
Gu Huaiyu raised a single finger, lightly pressing it against the tip of Pei Jingyi’s nose to push him back.
Pei Jingyi’s breath hitched.
The cold fragrance from the Chancellor’s sleeve wound into his nostrils like a silk thread. His Adam’s apple bobbed involuntarily.
The warhorse beneath him seemed to sense his agitation, shifting its hooves back a few steps. The iron shoes clattered sharply against the bluestone pavement.
“Twenty thousand bales of cotton from the Ministry of Works have fattened the Chancellor’s treasury!”
A roar of fury suddenly shattered the silence of the street.
Gu Huaiyu’s expression didn’t flicker, though his fingertips paused for a fraction of a second.
Pei Jingyi narrowed his eyes and looked over his shoulder. Dozens of scholars in green robes had blocked the path of the carriage. The leader of the group raised his arms and shouted, “Gu Yu! Do you dare to face us?!”
The crowd grew larger and larger. Someone else shouted in agreement, “Gu Yu embezzled the cotton! The people of Jiangzhou are freezing to death in the streets!”
The voices were loud and resonant, echoing through the long street. Even the commoners in the tea houses on both sides pushed open their windows to watch.
The Iron Eagle Guards drew their blades with a crisp shing, the cold steel glinting. However, they didn’t dare to charge. These were scholars here for the imperial examinations; if they were harmed, the spit of the empire’s literati would drown the Lord Chancellor’s manor by tomorrow.
These scholars dared to be so brazen precisely because they understood that “the law does not punish the masses.” One could settle scores with three or five troublemakers later, but when dozens of examinees petitioned together, even a Chancellor with heaven-reaching power found it difficult to act.
Moreover, many among them were sons of noble families. If lives were actually lost—wouldn’t that be even better for their cause?
Pei Jingyi watched with great interest, a low laugh rolling in his throat. “Lord Chancellor, it seems your trouble has arrived.”
Gu Huaiyu tapped his fingers against his aching brow. After a moment, he reached a hand through the gauze curtain and beckoned.
The commander of the Iron Eagle Guard bowed to receive orders.
He heard a very soft command: “Take a detour.”
The commander froze, instinctively glancing at the enraged scholars.
Gu Huaiyu’s fingers had already retracted into the carriage. “What? Do my words need to be repeated?”
Cold sweat broke out on the commander’s forehead. He quickly waved his hand, signaling the procession to turn around.
Pei Jingyi sat on his horse, watching the scene with fascination.
The horseshoes clattered chaotically against the stones as the carriage actually turned around, bypassing the gates of the Tribute Academy in full view of everyone.
The scholars were momentarily speechless.
