The following day, when Pei Jingyi stepped into the Chancellor’s Manor, the sun was still low and the morning mist had yet to disperse.
Yun Niang was already waiting at the base of the stairs. Seeing him approach, she performed a shallow curtsy. “General Pei.”
Pei Jingyi paused, his gaze sweeping over her. The girl looked to be around seventeen or eighteen, with bright eyes and white teeth. She didn’t look like a typical servant of the manor; she looked more like a daughter of a noble house.
He raised an eyebrow. “And you are?”
“This servant is Yun Niang, the Lord Chancellor’s personal attendant.”
Yun Niang looked up at him, her eyes tinged with a silent scrutiny. “The Chancellor has ordered that General Pei is to attend to his ink and study today.”
Pei Jingyi let out a sharp scoff. “Lord Gu certainly knows how to put people to work.”
Yun Niang’s brow furrowed slightly, clearly displeased by his irreverence toward Gu Huaiyu. Ultimately, she said nothing and simply stepped aside to lead the way. “General Pei, please follow me.”
As they walked through the winding corridors, Yun Niang suddenly spoke. “The Chancellor’s body is delicate; he cannot bear the cold. The charcoal fire in the study must be tended to at all times. It must not go out.”
Pei Jingyi gave a lazy grunt of affirmation. “Mm.”
Yun Niang continued, “The Chancellor dislikes strong tea. He only drinks Longjing brewed with fresh morning dew. The water temperature must be exactly seventy percent of boiling. Any hotter and he finds it parching; any cooler and he finds it cold.”
Pei Jingyi replied with a flat, “Oh.”
Yun Niang stopped in her tracks and turned to look at him, a hint of annoyance flickering in her eyes. “General Pei, I am telling you these things because I fear you will serve him poorly and incur the Chancellor’s displeasure.”
Pei Jingyi crossed his arms, looking down at her from his height. He suddenly smiled. “And what if I want him to be displeased?”
Yun Niang froze. She glanced around to ensure no one was nearby before lowering her voice. “General Pei, you have a misunderstanding regarding the Lord Chancellor.”
Pei Jingyi lowered his head and laughed. “A misunderstanding?”
“The world says the Chancellor is cold-blooded and ruthless, that he is a greedy power-monger,” Yun Niang said with a serious expression. “But those are merely the misconceptions of the masses. General Pei, you must not believe them so easily.”
Pei Jingyi never cared for rumors. He knew exactly what kind of man Gu Huaiyu was through his own personal experience. He suddenly asked, “How long have you followed him?”
Yun Niang hesitated. “Three years.”
“Three years…” Pei Jingyi raised an eyebrow, his tone measured and slow. “Then you haven’t seen him when he truly drops the mask.”
Yun Niang’s voice dropped even lower. “The Chancellor saved my entire family’s lives. I understand him far better than you do, General.”
Pei Jingyi only smiled and said nothing more. No matter how much he hated Gu Huaiyu, he wouldn’t make things difficult for a young woman.
They walked in silence until they reached the doors of the study. Yun Niang stopped and gave a final warning. “The Chancellor dislikes noise. Once you are inside, General Pei, do not speak excessively.”
Pei Jingyi curled his lip. “Why? Afraid I’ll upset him?”
Yun Niang met his gaze, her eyes sharp. “If the Chancellor is displeased, the one who suffers will be you.”
Pei Jingyi let out a low chuckle and pushed the door open.
Inside, the charcoal fire was burning intensely. It was warm and cozy, a stark contrast to the early winter chill outside.
Wisps of blue smoke drifted from an incense burner. Gu Huaiyu was reclining on a soft divan, a fox-fur robe draped over his knees. He held a small slip of paper between his fingertips. Even when he heard the door open, he didn’t bother to lift his gaze.
Pei Jingyi approached him, noticing a wooden box on the desk nearby. Inside were layers upon layers of paper slips, seemingly secret reports written in various hands.
Gu Huaiyu finished reading the slip in his hand and tossed it casually into the charcoal brazier at his feet. Without acknowledging Pei Jingyi’s presence, he reached for another one.
Pei Jingyi stood with his arms crossed, his gaze wandering boldly over the man’s frame.
Gu Huaiyu still didn’t look at him. He simply used his bare toe to lightly tap a pair of silk boots resting by the footstool. His voice was weary and languid. “Shoes.”
He didn’t even bother to say “put them on.”
It was as if Pei Jingyi was born naturally understanding his whims.
Pei Jingyi stared at that foot for two seconds, his expression twisting for a fleeting moment.
The ankle was slender, the skin a cool white. The arch of the foot was elegantly curved, looking like it had been carved from the finest mutton-fat jade.
The tips of his toes were flushed a faint pink—whether from the heat of the fire or natural coloring, it was impossible to say.
“What?” Gu Huaiyu still didn’t look up, his toe tapping again. “Can General Pei not even manage a simple task like this?”
Pei Jingyi bent down and picked up the silk boots. The moment his fingers touched the fabric, he caught the scent of heavy agarwood incense. It was so strong his temples began to throb.
Dammit. He even scents his shoes? Just how fastidious is this man?
He dropped one knee onto the footstool and roughly grabbed Gu Huaiyu’s ankle.
He had intended to just shove the shoe on and be done with it, but his palm unexpectedly brushed against skin that was incredibly smooth—it felt impossibly soft, more polished than any Hetian jade he had ever handled.
